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UNITED STATES OF AMERICA, f 











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Uniform with, this 'Volume. 

The Little Barefoot. 


A TALE BY 

BERTHOLD AUERBACH. 


Translated from the German by 


ELIZA BUCKMINSTER LEE. 


With Four Full-Page and Numerous Smaller Original Illustrations. 


Price $1.25. 


“Little Barefoot” is a very quaint and touching story of the 
adventures and struggles of two orphan children, named Amri, and 
Dami her brother. The translation is very graceful; and just enough of 
the German tone and coloring are retained to add to the charm of the 
book. The main points of the story are to show how self-reliance, a reso- 
lute spirit, and, most of all, a cheerful faith in God, finally triumph over 
all adversity, and establish a character which commands love and respect, 
and is a constant blessing. 

Although intended for children and youth, it will deeply interest 
older heads, filled as it is with the glow of feeling, and sparkling as a 
dewdrop. 


Sent by mail, postage paid, on receipt of the price, by tbe Publisher. 


















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wiwMfnlli 


WHICH WAY WILL HE COME? Page 65, 






Joseph in the Snow. 



J^ALE. 


TRANSLATED EROM THE GERMAN OF BERTHOLI) 
AUERBACH. 


y 

i b 

ILLUSTRATED. 


0 ; 

v , . T 

U- BOSTON : 

HORACE B. FULLER, 

245 WASHINGTON STREET. 


A°Un 0, 


Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1867, by 
HORACE B. FULLER, 

In the Clerk’s Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts. 


3S~<i ) 6 



Stereotyped by C. J. Peters 


No 


5 Washington Street, Boston 


Press of John Wilson & Son, Cambridge. 


“ Here lies a child who in the woods was lost. 

Not we, but the Good Shepherd, found him there, 
And carried him, the while we sleeping lay, 

To the Eternal Father’s mansion fair.” 


These lines are written on a little cross in a village churchyard. 
It became almost necessary to repeat the sad inscription ; but a happy 
chance saved Joseph. His wandering gained for him the name of 
“ Joseph in the Snow,” and led him from great misery to great 
happiness. 



CONTENTS 




CHAPTER I. 

PAGE. 

Isn’t it Morning, yet? 9 

CHAPTER II. 

A Duet is Interrupted 20 

CHAPTER HI. 

The Wild Röttmanns 27 

CHAPTER IV. 

Martina’s Return 35 

CHAPTER V. 

The Morning is Dark 44 

CHAPTER VI. 

Why a Village Priest is Summoned 51 

CHAPTER VII. 

Schilder -David’s Home 60 

CHAPTER VIII. 

The Priest’s Comfortable Home 68 

CHAPTER IX. 

Betrothal and Flight 76 

CHAPTER X. 

A Father Seeking his Son 85 


Y 


VI 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER XI. 

PAGE. 

Leave the Church in the Village 92 

CHAPTER XII. 

Where is Joseph? 97 

CHAPTER XIII. 

The Wild Army Ill 

CHAPTER XIV. 

Lois’s Story 121 

CHAPTER XV. 

A Child Seeking his Father 142 

CHAPTER XVI. 

The Sleepers and Watchers at the Forest-mill . . 150 

CHAPTER XVII. 

Much in a Small House 1G5 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

For the Child’s Sake 172 

CHAPTER XIX. 

A Voice at Midnight 180 

CHAPTER XX. 

It is Morning 183 


Joseph in the Snow. 


CHAPTER I. 



isn’t it morning, 

YET ? 


C THER, isn’t it morn- 
ing, yet ? ” asked a 
child, sitting up in 
bed. 

“No, not for a long time. 
What is the matter ? Be quiet, 
and go to sleep.” 

The child was quiet for a short time ; then he 
asked again, in a low voice, — 

“ Mother, isn’t it morning, yet ? ” 

“Why do you ask, Joseph? Be still! let me 
sleep, and go to sleep yourself. Say your prayers 
again, and then sleep will come to you.” 



10 


JOSEPH IN THE SNOW. 


The mother once more repeated the child’s even- 
ing-prayer to him, and prayed softly herself; then 
she said, “ Now, good-night ! ” 

The child was still for a long time ; but, when 
his mother moved in bed, he called, half-aloud, 
11 Mother ! ” 

No answer. 

u Mother, mother, mother ! ” 
u What ails you ? what is the matter ? ” 

“Mother, isn’t it morning, yet ? ” 

“ You are a naughty child, very naughty. Can’t 
you let me have my night’s rest ? I have been 
three times to the woods, to-day, and am very tired. 
Now, if you wake me again, to-morrow evening the 
Christ-child will bring you nothing but a switch. 
Be a good boy, and go to sleep. Hark ! the watch- 
man is calling twelve.” 

The child drew a deep sigh, said, “ Good-night, 
till morning ! ” and quite buried himself in the 
pillows. 

It was a little, dark room, just under the roof, 
where these words had been spoken. The glass in 
the small window was so thickly covered with frost 
that the clear moonlight could not shine through it. 
The woman bent over the child, who was at last 
sleeping quietly; but she could no longer sleep 
herself ; and, after lying some time with her eyes 
closed, she murmured, “ And if he takes me home ; 
and I believe, in spite of every thing, that he will 


isn’t it morning, yet? 


11 


— lie cannot help it — lie must — And, if he 
takes me home, he will do all he can for me and 
our child. Alas ! the days that are gone will never 
come back. Oh, if we could only begin our lives 
again ! if we could wake some day, and find it was 
not true, that we so — But no : if we have once 
sinned, we must suffer for it our whole life long. 
Is it true that I was once as merry as people say ? 
Why did my child ask three times, 1 Isn’t it morn- 
ing, yet ? ’ What will the morning bring ? 0 

Adam, Adam! you do not know what I suffer ! If 
you did, you could not sleep now.” 

The brook which flowed behind the house was 
frozen over ; but at night the gurgling of the 
water under its cover of ice could be heard. 

The thoughts of the sleepless woman followed 
the course of the brook far up the stream, through 
pathless valleys and deep ravines, till it was 
stopped at the forest-mill; and as it there leaped 
and foamed, and whirled over the wheel, so her 
thoughts leaped and whirled in the night. There, 
in the mill, she dwelt, whom Adam’s parents had 
chosen. Toni, the miller’s daughter, had always 
been called a good, kind-hearted girl; and now 
she showed herself so cruel ! The woman’s hands 
were clinched : she felt a knife, as it were, pierce 
her heart ; and she hissed between her teeth, 11 If 
he is untrue ! No : he cannot be ! But, if he is, 
I will not suffer it. I will go to the church with 


12 


JOSEPH IN THE SNOW. 


my Joseph — no — not that — I will not take him. 
I will go alone — I will cry, 1 1 will not suffer 
it ! ’ and then I will see if any priest will marry 
them.” 

The brook now flowed quietly through a meadow : 
here and there, at its very edge, stood a tree with 
thick foliage ; but on both sides, extending to the 
mountains, were dense, high-grown fir-woods. Over 
rocks the brook again leaped into a solitary ravine, 
and flowed rapidly once more. Now it passed a 
mile-stone. “ Here we are at home,” Adam had 
once said there : and yet it was a full hour’s walk 
to Köttmann Farm. There was the Otterswanger 
Forest ; and here was a quiet spot by the brook — 
the watcher pressed her cold hands to her heated 
cheeks — where, by the large beech-tree, Adam had 
first kissed her. Nobody in the world thought, 
and she herself could hardly believe, that he could 
be so kind and good, so gentle and so thought- 
ful. 

It was a beautiful summer-day : the day before, 
there had been a violent storm, with thunder and 
lightning, — so violent, that no one thought there 
would be a tree left standing in the forest. It is 
often thus, both within doors and without : there 
is such a tumult and confusion that we anticipate 
a destruction of every thing; and yet, when quiet 
returns, nothing is changed. 

It was a beautiful summer-day. In every fur- 


isn’t it morning, yet? 


13 


row and crevice, streamlets were flowing, making 
a loud noise, and hurrying on as though they knew 
their life was short, and they must make the most of 
it. The birds were singing, and the girl washing 
at the brook. What could she do but sing ? Why 
should she not ? She was still young, and without 
care ; and she knew many songs which she had 
learned from her father, who in former days was 
so happy, and so rich in songs. 

Men were coming down the brook, for there was 
now water enough- for boats. And, look ! there 
was Adam, the son of the house, upon a single log, 
which turned constantly: but he was skilful, and 
stood firm and upright; and, when near the girl, 
he let the log float as it would, placed his oar in 
the water, raised himself by it, and sprang with a 
bold leap to the shore. The girl laughed when she 
saw the tall young man with the high boots leap- 
ing through the air; but she was frightened when 
he stood before her. 

“ I have long wanted to say, 1 Thank you ! ’ ” 
said he. 

«Why? for what?” 

“ Because you have borne so much from my 
mother.” 

“ I am only a servant. I receive my wages, 
and I must bear something. Your mother suffers 
enough, too: she .is angr} 7 with the Lord, because 
your brother was killed at the wood-cutting ; she 


14 


JOSEPH IN THE SNOW. 


is angry with God and the world, and suffers her- 
self moät for it.” 

Adam opened his eyes wide in wonder. “-You 
are — you were” — stammered he: “yes, you!” 
He shuddered, held his boat-hook high in the air, 
and suddenly cried, “ Will you go from here, far 
from here ? ” 

He sprang into the brook, dashing the water far 
above his head, and sending into the stream, with 
great force, the rafts, which were lying one upon 
another, in a bend of the brook. Martina watched 
him in surprise, and wondered what had happened 
to him. After he was out of sight, she heard him 
call with the raftsman, for a time ; then all was still 
again. 

For weeks, Adam did not speak to Martina : he 
hardly looked at her. But in the harvest-time, 
when the cattle were pastured in the meadow, 
Martina was one day going down the mountain to 
draw water, — there was no well at the Röttmann 
Farm, and it was necessary to go half-way down 
the mountain for water, — when she saw the bull 
suddenly toss his head, and begin to run. It was 
beautiful to see this clumsy animal run so lightly; 
and she watched him with delight, till the herds- 
man called, “ Run, Martina, or the bull will gore 
you ! ” 

She uttered a shrill cry, and was running away, 
with her face turned back, when she fell. For an 


isn’t it morning, yet? 


15 


instant she heard the snorting of the beast near 
her; then he was bellowing loudly on the ground. 
Adam had hastened thither, seized the animal by 
the horns, and pressed his head down, and had 
kept him in this position till the other men had 
come. 

Martina was saved ; and Adam only said, “ Another 
time, when you go to the meadow, take your red 
handkerchief off your head.” -He was bespattered 
with blood ; and Martina asked, in terror, “ For 
heaven’s sake, are you hurt ? ” 

“ Don’t be frightened ! It’s nothing at all. The 
bull only bled at the mouth, and threw the blood 
upon me. Now go for your water.” He turned, 
and went to the pond to wash himself ; and, when 
left alone, Martina first realized her fright, and the 
great danger in which she had been. Her tears 
began to flow, and with them sprang up in her 
heart admiration and love for the strong, kind man 
who had saved her. 

At noon she heard his mother say to him, “ You 
are the most foolish, good-for-nothing fellow in the 
world to put your life in danger to save a stupid 
girl ! ” 

“I won’t do it again,” Adam answered. 

“ Believe me,” said his father, smiling, “ you 
couldn’t do it a second time, — catch a bull by the 
horns, and escape with your life. It’s a pity no- 


16 


JOSEPH IN THE SNOW. 


body was there to see it ; for it is a deed the whole 
country would praise.” 

After this, whenever Adam met Martina, he 
greeted her in a friendly way, but said nothing 
more to her. He appeared pleased, however, 
that she had helped him to do a real Röttmann 
deed. 

Again Martina was washing at the brook, when 
Adam stood before her. 

“ Are you well ? ” he asked. 
u I haven’t got over my fright yet,” she said : 
11 1 tremble now, when I think of it. But I shall 
be grateful to you for my life as long as I ” — 

“ I will hear nothing of that. The bull isn’t 
really bad : no animal would be, neither horse nor 
bull, if men didn’t make them so, when young, b^ 
foolishly frightening and goading them. But now, 
— yes — well — I — Don’t you know all ? and 
don’t you hold me as dear as I you ? ” 

He could not say much ; but in his eyes there 
was a look of deep tenderness as he watched 
Martina, and laid his hand on her shoulder. And 
here he gave her the first kiss ; and no one could 
believe that this Adam would be so gentle and so 
tender. But, when he put his arm around her neck, 
she cried out with pain: then he laughed, and 
begged her to teach him how to do it gently. 
“ Stand upon that stump of a tree, — so ! ” 


isn't it morning, yet? 


17 


And, when she showed him, he lifted her like a 
little child ; and yet she was large and strong. 

They stood together under the beech-tree ; and 
Martina looked up at the leaves, between which 
the slanting sunbeams were falling. 

“ See, how beautiful the tree is ! ” she exclaimed. 

“ It’s good for nothing,” said Adam. “ It has 
many branches, but scarcely any trunk.” 

“ I do not think so. Only see how golden-green 
it glitters and shines ! 

“You are right. It is beautiful,” he answered; 
and his rough, brown face w~as very mild as a few 
trembling sunbeams played upon it. For the first 
time, he seemed to understand that there was any 
thing to be seen in a tree, except its amount of 
wood. And, as often as Martina thought of that 
look through the beech-tree, it seemed to her that 
those sunbeams were shining forever, and could 
never fade away. 

Taking Martina’s hand, Adam said, “ This tree 
I will always leave standing. It shall never be cut 
down. Tree, come to our wedding ! Or, no : 
stay here, and you shall hear joyful music on the 
wedding-day. Martina, can’t you give me some- 
thing of yours to keep ? ” 

“ I am poor, and have nothing.” 

“Haven’t you anything? I see something I 
would like. May I have it ? ” 

“ Yes, whatever it is.” 

2 


18 


JOSEPH IN THE SNOW. 


“ See ! there is your name upon your breast. 
Tear it out, and give it to me.” 

“ I would tear my heart from my body if you 
asked me.” She tore from her kerchief the part 
where her name was, and gave it to him. 

“ I give you nothing / 5 he said ; 11 but, look around ! 
As far as you can see, all is yours ! 55 

At these words, which showed how rich Adam 
was, and how poor Martina, a feeling of sadness 
came over her ; but it quickly fled as he again took 
her hand. 

It was a wild, all-powerful, all-forgetting love that 
had come to them, and sorrow and misery soon fol- 
lowed. Adam was sent, for the first time in his 
life, down the Rhine, with a boat, to Holland ; and, 
during his absence, she was driven in shame and 
disgrace from the house. 

These were the pictures of the past, both bliss- 
ful and sorrowful, which spread themselves before 
Martina, in her little attic-chamber. 

She buried her face in the pillow. The cocks 
were crowing in the village, for it was already long 
past midnight. “ The one that is crowing now 
must be Haspele’s : he has bought a new kind. 
How loud those long-legged ones crow ! I like the 
others better. How good Haspele is ! and how kind 
to Joseph ! He certainly meant it, when he said, 
1 Martina, in my eyes you are a widow, and a brave 
one, too . 5 Alas ! I pity you, Haspele ; but I cannot 
— no, no gratitude 55 — 


isn’t it morning, yet? 


19 


Without finding peace, Martina waited for the 
day. It often seemed as if sleep pitied her, and 
were coming to her : but, after lying quietly a few 
moments, she would start suddenly, for she seemed 
to hear the voice, and to see the hard, threatening 
face, of her old mistress ; and then she would 
murmur, “ Isn’t it morning, yet? ” 



CHAPTER II. 


A DUET IS INTERRUPTED. 

T the same time that the child 
was awake and so restless 
in the little attic-room, two 
lights were burning in the 
parlor of the priest’s house, 
and three persons were sit- 
ting at a round table, and 
chatting pleasantly : they 
were the priest, his wife, and 
her brother, a young farmer. It was very cheerful 
and warm in the room ; and, in the pauses of the 
conversation, you could hear the sound of apples 
baking, and the simmering of a kettle on the stove. 
The priest, who did not usually smoke, was thought- 
ful enough to do so when a guest came, and also, to 
pass his snuff-box, from which he often took a pinch 
himself, and as often handed it to his brother-in-law, 
who repeatedly thanked him. The priest regarded 
his guest with evident pleasure ; and his wife every 
now and then looked up with beaming eyes from 



A DUET IS INTERRUPTED. 


21 


her embroidery (it was a present for the coming 
Christmas) into her brother’s face. 

“ You have done well,” continued the priest ; and 
his handsome, oval face, with the finely-cut mouth, 
the dark-blue eyes, and the high, arched forehead, 
wore an expression of even greater kindness than 
usual. “ You have done well to come and spend 
your holiday with us ; but,” he added, looking at 
the fowling-piece in the corner, and smiling, “ your 
gun will do you little good, if you do not have the 
fortune to meet the wolf, which, they say, is prowl- 
ing about the neighborhood.” 

11 1 have come not merely for a visit and hunt- 
ing,” replied the young man in a deep, manly 
voice : “ I have come also to beg you, dear broth- 
er, to withdraw your application for the place in 
Odenwald, and to wait till one is vacant in the vi- 
cinity of the capital, or perhaps in the capital itself. 
Our uncle, who is now president of the consistory, 
has promised to give you the first one that is 
empty.” 

“ It isn’t possible for me to go there,” the priest 
answered. “ To be sure, I would like, for Lina’s 
sake as well as my own, to be near our parents, and 
sometimes I really long to hear good music ; but I 
do not like the new doctrines that are preached, 
and the oversight to which a priest is subjected. 
There is, moreover, among my brethren of the 
present day, a great solicitude for their parish- 


22 


JOSEPH IN THE SNOW. 


ioners’ souls: they give each other prescriptions 
which sound very fine, but which, in reality, have 
too much pride in them. It is with them, as with 
parents who talk very wisely about bringing up 
children, — I always find that those who talk the 
most about it have the least care and control. 
And really, if we are simple and true, we can teach 
both our own children, and those of our church, 
without any art, and without constant worry and 
anxiety. I am especially opposed to change. I 
think we ought to grow old with the men for whom 
we have worked in the heat of the day ; and, in a 
well-governed state, we should be advanced to a 
higher position, while remaining in the same place. 
The reason that I applied for the situation at 
Odenwald is, that I feel myself becoming too old 
to bear the fatigue here ; and, besides, there are 
certain wrongs which I am unable to help — but 
enough of this. Come, let us sing.” 

He arose, went to the piano, and began to play 
his favorite air ; and his wife and the young farmer 
sang, with well-trained voices, the duet from 
“ Titus:” — 

“ Nor good nor ill divide as.” 


It seemed like a joyful embrace, a clasping of 
true hands, as the two voices harmonized in this 
soul-stirring melody. 

During the singing, there had been a sound like 


A DUET IS INTERRUPTED. 


23 


the cracking of a whip before the house. They 
had heard it, but had paid no attention to it ; but 
now, when the song was finished, there was a quick, 
loud snap, which caused the wife to hasten to the 
window, and, opening it, to ask in the darkness if 
any one was there. 

“ Yes,” answered a loud voice. 

She quickly shut the window ; for an icy wind 
was blowing against her face, which was glowing 
from the effect of the song. Her brother was going 
to see who it was ; but the careful woman held him 
back, for he too was heated. She sent the servant- 
girl down, and in the mean time lamented that per- 
haps her husband would have to go out this dark 
night. The girl came back, and said it was some 
one whom Röttmann’s wife had sent to bring the 
priest to her. 

“ Is it Adam, or a boy ? ” asked the priest. 

“ A boy.” 

“Let him come up, and take something warm, 
while I am getting ready.” 

The priest’s wife begged her husband not to 
put his life in danger to go to the wicked woman. 
“ The way to Röttmann’s house,” she said, “ is 
dangerous enough in the daytime : at this season, 
and in the night, it is dreadful.” 

“ A physician must go to a sick man, without 
asking about the wind and weather ; and how much 
more must I ! ” answered her husband. 


24 


JOSEPH IN THE SNOW. 


The boy now came into the room. The priest 
gave him a glass of something to drink, and asked 
him, — 

“ Is your mistress very sick ?” 

11 Oh, not so very sick ! She can scold and swear 
enough still,” answered the boy. 

And now the priest’s wife again entreated him 
not to go till morning: she would answer before 
God, if the wicked woman should die without spir- 
itual help. At the same time, she seemed to know 
that her entreaties would avail nothing ; for, while 
she was talking so earnestly to dissuade her hus- 
band, she was also pouring some brandy into a lit- 
tle straw-flask, which she afterwards put into the 
pocket of a large sheep-skin coat. 

The young farmer wanted to go with his brother- 
in-law ; but the latter would not permit him. 
“ You must stay here, and go to bed soon,” said 
the priest, at the door. “ Do not come out : you 
are hoarse, and I want many more songs, before you 
go home. The beautiful Mozart melody will ac- 
company me on my way.” 

The brother and sister did go out of the house, 
however, to the place where the horses stood ; and 
the sister wrapped around the feet of the priest 
a large woollen shawl, and asked the boy, “ Why 
have you brought a sleigh, instead of a wagon ? ” 

“ There is so much snow on the mountain ! ” 
replied the boy. 


A DUET IS INTERRUPTED. 


25 


“ All, yes ! I suppose so. I wonder you do not 
all break your necks on that frozen ground. Drive 
very slowly and carefully. And, Otko, I would 
walk up the Otterswanger ; or, no — remain on the 
sled, for you will freeze if you get out; but be 
very careful, and Heaven keep you ! ” 

u Good-night,” cried the priest ; and his voice 
sounded strangely, out of his wrappings. The 
horses started, the sleigh went rumbling and thump- 
ing out of the village, and the brother and sister 
returned to the house. 

“ I cannot tell you how much good it does me to 
see your husband, and to hear him speak,” said the 
young man, when they were once again in the 
warm room. “ It seems to me that the older he 
grows, the clearer his pure, beautiful nature shows 
itself. Or is the change in me ? and do I see more 
clearly than before ? ” 

His sister smiled, and said, “ No : you certainly 
love Otho with your whole heart; but you do not 
begin to know how true and holy and good he is. 
Some people think he does not preach enough ; 
but he is a sermon in himself. His gentleness, his 
untiring zeal and love, make all who know him kind 
and good. They become so merely by looking at 
him ; and, when he does preach, every word is a 
fruitful seed. Even the roughest men are respect- 
ful and gentlemanly in his presence. I used to 
think it a great pity that a man who rose so far 


26 


JOSEPH IN THE SNOW. 


above other men should pass his life among rude 
peasants ; but I have learned that the highest na- 
ture, which is simple and sweet as the Bible, is 
needed here.” 

I do not know which was the greater, the earnest- 
ness with which the sister spoke, or that with which 
the brother listened ; even as we cannot tell which 
gives us greater pleasure, the sight of happiness 
in another, or the possession of it. There is, how- 
ever, one joy that belongs to all who are capable 
of feeling it, — the recognition of a noble heart, 
and love for it. 

“ 1 know where he is now ! ” continued the wife, 
starting up as though she saw him before her. 
“ He is by the great horn-beam ; and now they are 
going by the pine-grove, where the wind always 
blows so fiercely. Wrap yourself up warm! Ah ! 
I believe you will convert the wicked woman ! 
Yes, I believe it ! You can do every thing ! And 
you will marry Adam and Martina, and then we 
will remain here ! ” 

The brother did not know what to say to the 
excited woman ; but finally he asked, “ Who is 
this wicked woman? and Adam? and Martina?” 

“ Come, and sit here by me, and I will tell you ; 
for, unless I do something, I can find no peace till 
I know Otho is safe in the house.” 


CHAPTER III. 


THE WILD ROTTMANNS. 



HERE is a family of strong 
men, real giants, who live 
above us on the mountain ; 
and many wonderful stories 
are told of these rough peo- 
ple.” 

“ Tell me about them.” 
u They are large, uncouth 
men ; and they take great 
pride that so many deeds of strength are told 
of them and their ancestors ; and, as they are 
rich, they can still afford to do the same. The 
father of the present farmer is said to have had 
such a powerful voice, that once, when he called 
to a gamekeeper, the latter fell backward upon the 
ground. His chief pleasure lay in going to the 
public -house, and, when he had eaten, rolling 
the tin-plates into balls. The present farmer, when 
he was young, had his greatest delight in dancing; 
and, when he danced, he used to put a dozen or 
more heavy iron wedges with which wood is split 

27 


28 


JOSEPH IN THE SNOW. 


— they call them in the country speidel — in the 
pockets of his long coat, so that every one must 
stand aside for him, and he could have room 
enough. He has often danced twenty-four hours 
at a time, pausing only to drink, which he did, and 
still does, to an incredible extent. In order to know 
how much he had drunk at these times, he would 
twist a button off his red waistcoat for each pint, 
and in the end redeem them from the landlord. 

“ The old man with the loud voice once forbade 
him to stay, during the day, at a wedding in Wen- 
gern, as there was a meadow in the Otterswanger 
Valley which he must mow. A strict obedience 
has always been preserved in the family ; so this 
submissive son did as he was bidden, but danced 
the entire night as if mad. In the morning, his 
father came to the meadow, and heard music. 
What could it mean? Some one was mowing, but 
how strangely he looked ! The father came nearer, 
and found his son doing as he had commanded ; 
but, on Speidel-Röttmann’s back was a pack, in 
which was a fiddler playing. And so the son 
mowed the meadow up and down, till the work was 
done ; then he danced away to the wedding, with 
the fiddler on his back. 

“We used to have a proverb, ‘Every thing can 
be stolen, except a mill-stone and red-hot iron.’ Bat 
Speidel-Röttmann once played a trick upon the mil- 
ler by rolling the mill-stone half-way up the mountain. 


THE WILD ROTTMANNS. 


29 


u He had two sons, Vincent and Adam. The 
older, Vincent, was not so strong as his brother, 
but as sly as a lynx. That was inherited from his 
mother ; for the Röttmanns are not at all malicious, 
but only unmannered and wild. They say that 
Vincent, who superintended the wood-cutters, was 
very cruel, and treated them like slaves. One day, 
as they were cutting a tree, it fell upon him, and 
killed him. It is thought, and the former priest 
firmly believed, that the wood-cutters did it inten- 
tionally. Since that time, Röttmann’s wife, who 
was never very amiable, has been a perfect dragon, 
that would poison the whole world if she could. 
She is the only person who does not love my hus- 
band ; but she hates him, because he will not con- 
form to her wishes, and ask every dying man to 
whom he is summoned if he has nothing to confess 
about the death of her son. Her husband wished 
that the tree which had struck his son, and which 
was one of the finest of the so-called ‘ Dutchman’s 
trees,’ should be sent down the Rhine. He said, 
*A tree’s a tree, and gold is gold. Why should 
this remain useless because it killed Vincent ? ’ 
But she thought otherwise. After it had lain a 
long time untouched, she commanded the wood- 
cutters to cut off the branches ; and, while they 
were at work, she watched them, and came unex- 
pectedly among them, hoping to overhear some- 
thing about her son’s death; but she found out 


30 


JOSEPH IN THE SNOW. 


nothing in this way. She had a large pile made 
of the branches, and on it she burned the dead 
man’s clothes. ‘So shall they burn in hell/ she 
cried, ‘who have murdered my Vincent.’ Six 
horses and ten oxen were brought to drag the 
trunk to the farm-house ; but they had gone but a 
short distance, when it was found that so large 
a tree could not be carried up the mountain ; so 
it was sawed twice, and now the logs lie in the 
farm-yard, before the door of the house. She says 
the tree is waiting to be made into a gallows and a 
funeral-pile, to hang and to burn her son’s murder- 
ers. She often sits at the window, and talks ear- 
nestly to them; and she laughs heartily whenever 
a stranger stumbles over them. She has erected a 
shrine to her son (such as the Catholics build) 
on the footpath that leads from the valley to the 
forest-mill, near the place where Vincent was 
struck. 

“ Her other son, Adam, she treats worse than a 
step-son. It is said that she beats him still, like 
a little child ; and he submits to it, although he has 
shown himself already stronger than any other 
Röttmann, and has won a proud surname ; for he is 
known all about here as ‘ The Horse.’ He once 
carried a horse to be shod, and found the smith 
bargaining for one that was harnessed to a large 
two-wheeled cart, loaded with pease. The peasant 
who owned the horse was saying, ‘ There isn’t 


THE WILD RÖTTMANNS. 


31 


another such horse in the world! He can draw 
more than three other horses.’ 

“‘Ho, ho!’ cried Adam Rattmann, who had just 
come ; and he called so loud, that the peasant 
tumbled over against his horse. 

“ 1 Ho, ho ! I bet I can carry that load, and the 
wagon too, as far as “ The Crown,” in three loads. 
Can the smith have the horse if I do it ?’ 

“ The peasant assented. The horse was taken 
out. Adam poured the pease into a large bed-tick, 
and carried them straight to 1 The Crown ; ’ then 
he took the wagon-body, and, finally, he carried the 
two large wheels, one on each shoulder. 1 Which 
is the stronger, your horse, or I ? ’ he asked of the 
peasant; and from that time, he has been called 
1 The Horse.’ 

“ The way in which Speidel-Röttmann made 
known his son’s feat shows his ambitious nature ; 
for truly he is not a bad man, only a braggart 
of the first degree. The day after the horse- 
deed of Adam, there was a fair in town ; and, in the 
inn, the smith met Speidel-Röttmann, and began to 
tell him what had taken place : but he interrupted 
the smith by saying, ‘ Do not tell me here, but 
go down into the street, and I will give you a bottle 
of my best wine, if you will call out the whole 
story to me at the window.’ And so he lay far out 
the window, and listened while the smith repeated 
it to him. He certainly takes great delight in his 


32 


JOSEPH IN THE SNOW. 


son ; but he has not dared to show it, on account of 
his wife, especially for the last seven years. 

11 Just over the bridge — you can see his little 
house from the window — lives a turner of clock- 
cases and sign-boards, who is called, on that account, 
1 SoJiilder-David.’ He is very proud ; for, although 
he is one of the poorest in the village, he would 
rather starve than take any thing in charity ; and 
yet he keeps a light burning later at night than any 
one, for he is a devout reader of the Scriptures. 
He has a Bible that he has read from beginning to 
end sixteen times. I saw it once, and the leaves 
were then falling apart ; for David always points 
with four fingers when he reads. On the fly-leaf 
were written the dates, — when he began and when 
he finished each time. The longest time was a lit- 
tle over two years ; but three times he read it 
through in less than a year, — once, when his 
daughter left home ; the second time, when he had 
a lame hand, and everybody thought he would lose 
it ; and the last time, the year his little grandson 
was born. In his youth, they say, he was the 
merriest fellow in the village, and could sing songs 
without number. He once earned a cord of wood 
by singing. He went to Speidel-Röttmann to buy 
some. 1 Sing to me, David/ said Röttmann, who 
was in a good mood ; 1 and, for every song, I will 
myself carry a log of wood to your door. 7 So 
David sang, and gained so many logs, that the boys 


THE WILD RÖTTMANNS. 


33 


in the village gave him the name of ‘ Klafter- 
David ; ’ but he does not like to be called so now. 

“ His w T ife is one of those persons (there are a 
good many in our parish) who never seem to be 
more than half awake. She goes about the house, 
and does her work day by day, but seldom speaks 
to any one. She has, besides, been very deaf for a 
few years. She had five daughters, tall, noble- 
looking girls ; and, when they were still children, 
their father would often say, that they must some- 
time go over the water, to America, and make their 
fortunes. And, in truth, four did go, — two with 
their husbands, and two who have since been mar- 
ried. One of them has lately died; but the others 
are settled there, and are living comfortably. Now, 
David says that America is a new dragon that 
takes our children from us ; for he cannot help 
longing to see these daughters who have been 
away so long. He has often talked of going to them ; 
but he is getting too old now, and, besides, I believe 
he no longer wishes to go. His youngest daughter, 
Martina, was the pride of her father; for she was 
the first in her school. You do not know what a 
character that gives one in the village. A girl, 
especially, wins a certain reputation and respect, 
which she keeps to her latest day. Martina was a 
good, sensible girl, and very considerate, too. I 
remember, when she came to the priest, before con- 
firmation, how carefully she wiped her shoes with 


34 


JOSEPH IN THE SNOW. 


a broom, and how she kept back the others, that 
they might not carry any dust into the room ; and 
she and her companions swept and cleaned the 
entire church for Confirmation-Sunday. I never 
saw any one more beautiful than she was, as she 
stood before the altar. She was large and tall for 
her age ; and there was an expression of sweetness 
and holiness on her face, that seemed to throw a 
glory about her. She often came to our house, 
and Otho was very fond of the child. He told me 
that he met her in the field, the day after the con- 
firmation, and she said she felt as if she had left her 
home now, and had gone out into the world ; and 
she did, in reality, very soon go out ; for she was 
only sixteen when she entered Röttmann’s service. 
He gave her very high wages, as indeed he was 
obliged to do, to induce any one to stay with his 
wife. She staid two years ” — 

The speaker was suddenly interrupted here by 
footsteps, and the tinkling of bells. 

11 What is that ? ” asked her brother. 

“ Those are the donkeys going from the mill. 
They carry corn and meal up and down the moun- 
tain. I have something to send Toni, and I wish 
I had thought to give it to the boy ; but it’s too 
late now.” 

She sat silent a few moments, till, at her 
brother’s request, she continued : — 


CHAPTER IV. 



martina’s return. 

the Saturday noon before St. 
John’s Day, several years ago, 
a woman was crouching on the 
ground, behind the great rock 
that hangs over the brook. As she 
remained thus, one of the villagers — 
Lois, we call her here — came to the 
place, having wandered a little from 
the road, on her way from the forest-mill. This 
woman is full of superstition, although nobody says 
more against it than she ; and when sho saw, on 
this day, the figure behind the rock, she thought 
it a ghost, and cried aloud in terror. At this, the 
crouching figure stood up; and Lois saw it was 


36 


JOSEPH IN THE SNOW. 


Martina, who said she had come there to die, but 
she felt she must live for the sake of her child. 
Lois sat down with her, listened to her, consoled 
her, and promised to be god-mother to the child 
(for here they think it a great misfortune for any 
one to come into the world without a god-mother ; 
and, even if a child dies, they think he will be 
doubly blessed, to have had one); and finally she 
brought Martina back to the village with her. 

u It was in the afternoon of that day, as Otho 
and I were sitting in the garden, that we heard, 
from the other side of the brook, a shriek that 
made us spring to our feet; and, before we came 
to the garden-gate, Lois, pale as death, rushed in, 
crying, 1 Dear sir, for heaven’s sake, go to Schilder- 
David’s ! He is murdering Martina ! 9 My hus- 
band hurried away, and I was following him ; but 
he called to me to remain at home. Lois had sunk 
upon the ground; but fortunately I had some coffee 
to give her, and she was soon able to tell me her 
story. When David, who was splitting wood 
before his house, saw Martina, he raised his axe, 
and would have struck her with it, had not some 
neighbors run and caught it from him ; then he 
placed himself before the house-door, and swore he 
would kill Martina if she ever crossed the thresh- 
old. Martina fell down before the door, and some 
women carried her into the house ; and when she 
opened her eyes in the little room, and saw her 


Martina’s return. 


37 


confirmation-certificate upon the wall, under a glass 
and frame, she uttered a cry so piercing that 
we heard it even here. She fell down again, and lay 
unconscious. The women tried to rouse her ; but 
David cried, 1 Do not bring her back to life, for I 
will send her from the house ! 0 God ! make me 

blind ! Pluck out my eyes ! America has robbed 
me of three children; and now, now ’ — 

“He rushed again towards Martina; but the 
neighbors seized him, and held him while Lois ran 
for my husband. 

“ We waited a long time for Otho. At last we 
saw him coming, leading David by the arm, who 
had his hat drawn over his eyes, and was stum- 
bling like a blind man : he w T as saying, 1 Good 
priest, lock me up, for I am no longer master of 
myself. My child, my best child, my only child ! 
She was the crown of my old age, as you told 
her in your address at her confirmation, and 
so — Great God ! why do you punish me so se- 
verely ? Why cannot I depart in peace? 0 sir! 
when we see our children eat what is good for 
them, it is better for us than if we ate it ourselves. 
We feed them and take care of them, and are hap- 
py to see them happy and strong ; we teach them 
all the wisdom and goodness we can ; we send them 
to school, and rejoice to have them learn, to see 
them work, to hear them sing: and, when we think 
they are going to be our greatest blessing, every 


38 


JOSEPH IN THE SNOW. 


thing is lost. My other daughters have gone out 
into the world; and they live, although they are 
dead to me, and I to them : my Martina has lived at 
home, before my very eyes, and now is worse than 
dead. If a child is upright, we are doubly happy ; 
but a sinful child can make a parent doubly and a 
thousand times unhappy. I try to think ; but I 
cannot find — I cannot find wherein I have failed 
in my duty to her; and yet I must have failed: 
and my good name ’ — He saw me now, and 
cried, sobbing aloud, ‘ Lady, you, too, have always 
loved her ! She has given me my death-blow. I 
feel it.’ 

“His feet could hardly carry him. We helped 
him into the house, and here he sat for a full hour, 
without moving. He held his hand before his face ; 
but his tears ran through his fingers. 

“ At last he stood up erect, and spoke. 1 God 
will reward you, sir,’ said he. 1 Here’s my hand. 
May I never have a decent burial, if I make Mar- 
tina,’ — his tears stopped him as he uttered that 
name, — 1 if I make Martina suffer, either by word 
or deed ! God has punished me through her. I 
must have been a great sinner. I was too proud 
of my children, and particularly of her ; and now 
she is humbled enough. I will not sin more.’ 

“ My husband wanted to go home with him ; but 
he refused. 1 No,’ said he : 1 1 must learn to walk 
through the streets alone with my sorrow. I have 


Martina’s return. 


39 


been too proud. My head is bowed now, till I go 
to my grave. Thank you a thousand times, and 
may God reward you ! ’ 

u The old man, who before had always walked so 
erect, was a pitiable sight as he went homeward; 
and now, for the first time, my husband told me how 
frightful it was at David’s house. But the people 
who were there have also told me how gentle and 
patient beyond any thing they ever saw, Otho was 
with the old man, who seemed about to tear them 
all to pieces in his fury, and kept crying, 1 1 am 
Job ! Stretch down thy hand, 0 Lord 1 and tear 
my tongue from my throat; for I must curse, curse 
the whole world. There is no goodness, — no, 
neither in heaven nor on earth.’ My husband suc- 
ceeded in calming him ; but I never saw Otho so 
exhausted as he was after the old man had left us. 

“ Lois stood god-mother to little Joseph, and 
Adam came to the christening in the village. He 
wanted David to walk with him to the church, that 
everyone might see them together; but David 
would not. At home, Adam has had to suffer for 
coming ; for he has since been kept a prisoner, 
and been watched by certain spies whom his moth- 
er pays. 

u David was always a constant attendant at 
church ; but, after his little grandson was born, he 
did not go for two months. When the church- 
bells rang, he would lament that he could not go ; 


40 


JOSEPH IN THE SNOW. 


and then, if no one was in the house, he would 
carry his little grandchild up and down the room. 

“ The boy seemed to possess a charm over him : 
he would carry Joseph about, and watch the child 
as tenderly as a woman. For an hour at a time, he 
has been seen standing at his garden-gate, with 
the boy in his arms, after working-hours, or on Sun- 
days. The old man, indeed, partly gave up smok- 
ing on account of the boy, although he used never 
to be without a pipe in his mouth. When Joseph 
began to walk, his grandfather was his constant 
companion; and, when he was old enough to play 
with other children, if David came in sight, in the 
midst of any game, he would leave every thing to 
remain by his grandfather’s side. If a child could 
be spoiled by devotion, he would certainly be. You 
can never see the old man, without hearing him 
repeat some of Joseph’s remarkable sayings; and 
indeed, honest as David is, he has such a habit of 
doing this, that he often tells things which the 
child never has said. I know, however, some 
things, which show the peculiar thoughtfulness of 
the boy. The other da} 7 , a child was born in the 
village, and, on the same day, one died; and 
Joseph said, 1 Grandfather, when a little boy is 
born, doesn’t he go to sleep in heaven, and wake 
up on earth? And, when he dies, doesn’t he go to 
sleep on earth, and wake up in heaven ? ’ He has 
been with his grandfather so constantly, that he 


Martina’s return. 


41 


has heard the old people in the village talk, and he 
knows about every thing that has taken place 
here.” 

“ Why don’t you tell me about Martina ? ” inter- 
rupted the listener. 

“ There isn’t much to tell about her. She lives at 
home quietly, and says but little to any one ; but, 
whenever there is any trouble among the neigh- 
bors, she is always ready to lend a helping hand. 
She shows an inexpressible love for her father, and 
he repays this love in the best way possible, — by 
devoting himself to little Joseph.” 

“ And the father, Adam ? — what does he do ? ” 

“ He lives at home also, and, as I have said, is 
kept a prisoner by his parents, and seems to think 
it is enough, if he does not marry Martina, not to 
marry any one else. His parents have tried to 
persuade him to give her up ; and they have also 
made splendid offers to her of marriage-portions, if 
she will accept one of the many suitors they have 
sent to her house ; but she always gives the same 
answer, 1 1 could have another husband, if I would ; 
but Joseph could not have another father if he 
would.’ 

“ There is a cousin of Martina’s, a well-to-do 
shoemaker, who lives a bachelor, and will not marry 
any one but her. They call him Haspele (the 
reeler) ; and, indeed, I don’t know his real name. 
After his work is over, he often reels the yarn 




42 


JOSEPH IN THE SNOW. 


which the village girls have spun, which has given 
him the name. He is a good-natured fellow, and 
every year, at the Carnival, he plays the clown 
the whole week ; so, whenever he is seen, people 
are always joking with him ; and his appearance 
and voice are so peculiar, that one hardly knows 
whether he is in earnest, or jesting. His nose is 
so red, it seems as though it were always rouged. 
He is very fond of Martina, and she loves him 
too, but in the same way that all the girls in 
the village love him. People think he will never 
marry — 

“ Thank heaven ! ” cried the speaker, interrupting 
herself, “ my husband must now be in the house if 
nothing has happened to him, which God forbid ! 
It would be the most beautiful Christmas Eve, the 
best Christmas-gift, if he could convert Rottmann’s 
wife ! Speidel-Rottman himself would yield then, 
and we could remain here ; for it was this trouble 
that made Otho decide to go away. These wild 
people still persist that Adam shall marry the mil- 
ler’s daughter, Toni ; and they are making arrange- 
ments for the betrothal, to-morrow. She is the 
only one in the village they think of high standing 
enough for their son. The miller’s family and Rott- 
mann’s are the best, or, what means the same thing, 
the richest, in our parish. She herself has a young 
step-mother, and is so unhappy at home that she 
is willing to go anywhere, even to hell itself. I 


Martina’s return. 


43 


must say I never could bear to see Adam go to the 
church with Toni ; and, for my husband, it is fright- 
ful ! There he must stand, and open his inmost 
heart, and preach holiness, goodness, and truth, and 
know that in the foremost seats there sit persons 
to whom all that he says is nothing but empty 
words. 

“ 1 hear the watchman calling twelve. Now 
Otho is certainly in the house, and I know he is 
doing good. Now let us go to bed ! ” 


% 




CHAPTER V. 


THE MORNING IS DARK. 


R T I N A remained as 
restless all night as if 
she knew some one was 
telling the story of her 
life. She was so impa- 
tient, it seemed as if 
she must go forth into the world, and change her 
whole being. The cocks crowed louder and louder, 
and now and then the lowing of a cow or the 


barking of a dog was heard. It must be near 
day. 

She arose, dressed herself, and kindled a fire in 
the room down stairs. There must be a good 
breakfast this morning, for Lois was coming early 
to make a new corduroy jacket for Joseph. On the 
table lay a slate, on which the child had drawn, the 
evening before, a large, hideous figure of a man, 
and had said, “ That is my father ! ” 

Martina wiped out the drawing, and wished she 

44 



THE MORNING IS DARK. 


45 


had also the power to wipe from the memory of the 
child what she had told him when she put him to 
bed. She had promised him that his father would 
come ; and that was the reason he had asked so 
many times in the night, u Isn’t it morning, yet ? ” 
Martina gazed a long time into the bright blaze 
of the fire, and almost unconsciously she sang, — 


“ The heart that has once truly loved 
Must still love on forever : 

Oh ! doubly happy must he be 
Who, loving, doubteth never. 

All eyes do sadly follow me 
Wherever I may go; 

Yet thee I never can forsake, 
However great my woe.” 


Presently she took a pail on her arm, and opened 
the house-door ; but such a strong, icy wind was 
blowing, that she stopped a moment to draw her 
red kerchief more tightly over her head and shoul- 
ders before she went out. She hastened to the 
well by the church, which was the only one in 
the village that was not frozen. A number of 
women and girls were waiting there for their 
turns, chatting together, and uttering loud cries 
whenever water was spilt from a pail, as they 
could hardly stand on the icy ground. The sun 
sent a few rays into the valley below, but soon 
withdrew them, and hid himself behind a clpud. 
The fields and meadows glistened with hoar-frost, 


46 


JOSEPH IN THE SNOW. 


and every thing was freezing without its protecting 
cover of snow, which could be seen only on the 
mountain. 

“ Thank heaven, the clouds are bringing us snow 
at last ! ” 

“ The fields need it enough. It’s a great pity 
every thing should be spoilt.” 

“ We always have snow at Christmas, and sleigh- 
ing New Year’s.” 

Thus the women talked at the well, and their 
words were turned to light clouds before their 
mouths. 

“ Is it true,” asked an old woman of Martina, 
who had just come, — “is it true that the priest 
was called last night to your mother-in-law? ” 

“ I believe your father-in-law would like to make 
that tree that killed Vincent, into a coffin for the 
old scold.” 

“ It would be good if she did die ; and then you 
could have your Adam.” 

“And become a good farmer’s wife.” 

“ I would like to pray her to death ! The tailor 
in Knuslingen knows a prayer that will kill any- 
body.” 

“ No : you ought to curse to death.” 

The women kept up an animated discussion, until 
Martina, who had filled her pail, and put it upon her 
head, said, “ Do not talk so wickedly : to-night is 
the holy evening.” 


THE MORNING IS DARK. 


47 


She went slowly homeward, as if the words that 
were spoken still behind her held her back. And 
she became greatly agitated, as she thought that 
perhaps Joseph had had a presentiment of what 
was taking place on the mountain, and that was 
the reason he had been so restless. She had re- 
proached Adam that he did not also suffer; and 
perhaps in that same hour he was suffering the 
intensest pain a human being can, — that of seeing 
what is dearest on the earth die in bitterness and 
unforgiveness. 

Those at the well were no longer in a hurry. 
They stood leaning over their pails, or with them 
on their heads, and talked about Martina. 

“ She would like to go to the parsonage now.” 

“ She isn’t very wise. Old Röttmann offered to 
give her two thousand florins, if she would set free 
the father of her child ; but she would not.” 

“And Schilder-David would not either.” 

“ Good- morning, Haspele!” suddenly called a 
voice. “How are your hens? are they all well?” 

“ Doesn’t one of your roosters crow Spanish ? 
Do you understand him ? ” 

So the only man was greeted who came to the 
well to draw water. It was Haspele. He wore a 
light-gray waistcoat, and a many-colored night-cap, 
under which a merry face looked out. 

“ Martina has just been here, and will come 
again,” said one woman who was leaving. 


48 


JOSEPH IN THE SNOW. 


Haspele smiled, and thanked her. He waited, 
and helped all the women draw their water ; and, 
just as he was filling his own pail, Martina came 
back. He went away with her, and they walked 
down the street together ; for Haspele passed Mar- 
tina’s house on his way home. As they walked, 
she told him that last night the priest had been 
summoned to Röttmann’s wife, and had not yet 
returned; and she could not help expressing the 
hope that the good man would touch the woman’s 
hard heart. But Haspele said, 11 No : do not be- 
lieve that. The wolf that is in our neighborhood 
would sooner come into my house, and let me tie a 
ribbon around his neck, like my goat, than that 
wild woman would repent. I have told you every 
thing that happened a week ago, when I carried 
Adam his new boots ; and I have brought you the 
message that he would come to-day without fail. 
I believe myself, as the others do, that you will set 
him free.” 

Martina did not answer; but, at the door of her 
house, she stopped suddenly, and cried, “ See ! 
there is the priest coming home ! ” 

Opposite, on the carriage-road (Martina’s house 
stood on the other side of the brook), an open 
sleigh was moving slowly up the street. A man, 
closely wrapped in fur, with a fur cap drawn over 
his eyes, sat beside the driver, who was smoking, 
and who now, snapping his whip, nodded to Martina. 


THE MORNING IS DARK. 


49 


It was one of the boys from the Röttmann Farm 
whom she knew. She gave her hand to Haspele, 
and then went into the house. Haspele hastened 
home. 

As she was trying to shut the door, a woman’s 
voice called, “ Stop ! let me in ! ” 

u Good-morning, Lois ! I am glad you have come 
so early/ 7 said Martina ; and the neighbor, who, in 
spite of the cold, had come in slippers with high 
heels, helped her to take the pail from her head, 
for which Martina thanked her : for Lois does not 
often help any one except in sewing ; and, when 
she does, the favored one feels quite flattered. It 
is a great kindness, too, for her to come the day 
before Christmas; for she is wanted by all the 
women of the neighborhood. 

Wherever she goes, she is treated with great 
respect. This is shown by Martina’s opening wide 
the door of the room, and waiting for her to enter. 
But a chilling welcome awaited her here ; for little 
Joseph cried, “ Oh, dear ! it’s only Lois ! ” 

4 





Si 

CHAPTER VI. 


WHY A VILLAGE PRIEST IS 
SUMMONED. 

HE priest’s wife was al- 
ready standing at the 
window, and gazing out. 
There was only one coiner 
window from which the coun- 
try could be seen ; for the oth- 
ers looked out upon a large, 
many - gabled barn, which a 
peasant had built there to spite the former priest ; 
and, now that a good priest was there, it could 
not be removed. She could not see far, however, 
for the day was one of those which seem but a 
twilight between one night and another : the sun 
was but a faint yellow spot behind the thick clouds 
that lay low over the whole country. As soon 
as she saw the sleigh, she nodded and smiled, but 
did not open the window, or move away. She 

50 


WHY A VILLAGE PRIEST IS SUMMONED. 51 


would have hastened down to greet her husband ; 
but she knew that he did not like any eager, pub- 
lic expressions of feeling: he had a certain child- 
like bashfulness that made all leave-takings and 
welcomes disagreeable to him. So she sent the 
maid down, and opened the door by stepping on a 
knob in the floor; and, in order to do something 
more, she smoothed the table-cloth, and moved the 
cups, although every thing was in perfect order; 
she took up the slippers that were warming in 
front of the fire, then quickly put them down again ; 
she moved the kettle of boiling water from the 
stove, and poured some fresh water in it. It was 
very warm and cosey in the room. One has free 
quarters in the midst of the Waldbergen. 

“ Good-morning, Lina ! ” said the priest, at last, 
coming in. “ Thank God ! I am safely at home 
again.” He drew off his fur coat, his wife helping 
him. 

“ Is Edward still asleep? ” 

11 No: he has gone hunting. I sent him to meet 
you ; did you not see him ? ” 

“ No.” 

The air in the room seemed too close for the 
priest, who went to the window, opened it, and 
stood a few minutes before it, and said, “ It is well 
you did not think of the wolf that is about here, 
and of which everybody is complaining: you would 
certainly have persuaded yourself that the monster 
was devouring me.” 


52 


JOSEPH IN THE SNOW. 


“ Come, sit down and warm yourself/’ replied 
the wife, and poured a cup of steaming coffee. 
“ Come, I will hold the cup for you ; for your fingers 
must be too stiff : take a swallow. Now, why did 
Röttmann’s cruel wife send for you last night? 
No, no, drink first ! There is time enough to 
answer me. I can wait.” 

“ Lina,” said the priest, and a peculiar smile 
played over his face, — “ Lina, be proud ! I must be 
a man with a remarkable power of entertaining. 
Ah ! the coffee is good. Think, Lina ! it was just 
one o’clock — I heard it strike at Wengern — when 
we drove up to Röttmann’s house. My reception 
was very noisy. I was greeted with a loud wel- 
come, and was not able to alight; for the good peo- 
ple had left the dogs loose. They thought it was 
not necessary to fasten them if the priest was 
coming ; for they had the beautiful belief that the 
w r ord of God could subdue even fierce beasts in 
the night. It was some time before the dogs were 
chained, and I could leave the sleigh. Pour me 
another cup. This coffee is very good.” 

“ And what happened then ? ” asked his wife. 

The priest looked at her for a minute, and smiled ; 
then he continued, “ The snow w 7 as knee-deep ; 
but, if it does wet us so mercilessly, it is at the 
same time clean. I succeeded in making my way 
over the doomed logs, and went into the house. 
1 Where is your master? ’ I asked. ‘ In bed .’ — ‘ Is 


WHY A VILLAGE PRIEST IS SUMMONED. 53 


he sick, also ? ’ — 1 No : he is asleep.’ — 1 What ! I am 
called to a dying woman, and her husband sleeps ? 
They are tender-hearted people here.’ Well, I 
went to the sick woman’s chamber. 1 Thank 
heaven ! you have come, sir.’ — 1 What ! is that the 
voice of the dying one,’ I asked, 1 to whom I am 
summoned in the middle of the night ? ’ — 1 Ah ! 
dear sir,’ said Röttmann’s wife, 1 you are so good, 
so extremely good, you can talk so well, and tell 
one so much, that sbe quite forgets she is sick. I 
have been lying here seven days and nights, and 
have hardly closed my eyes ; and I cannot tell you 
how tedious it is. It seemed tome the hours would 
never pass to-night, and so I sent for you: you are 
so good, you will talk with me a little while. My 
husband does not know that you have come. He 
does nothing for me ; he goes out as often as he can, 
and, when he is at home, he hardly speaks to me ; 
he wishes I had died a long time ago. And Adam, 
my only son, he, too, appears as though he would be 
glad to have me die. 0 sir ! when one has to lie, day 
after day, in a lonely house, and do nothing, every 
day is an eternity, and every night is three. If 
my Vincent only lived, he would stay by me day 
and night ; he would talk to me as no one else 
can. So, good priest, sit down and say something 
to me. Will you not take a glass of gin ? That 
will warm you : you must take it ! No, you must 
not refuse me ! Catherine, take down that green 


54 


JOSEPH IN THE SNOW. 


bottle, the last one, and ponr out some.’ How do 
you think I felt, Lina, as I heard this steady flow 
of words from the woman ? ” 

“ I could hardly have helped cursing the old 
dragon. Unfeeling creature ! to drag you out of 
the house, up the snowy mountain, this cold 
December night.” 

“ When a wolf is in the neighborhood ! ” added 
the priest. 

“ Let the wolf be,” continued the wife. “ This 
woman is the worst wolf. You told her what you 
thought?” 

“ By all means. And with you I may be a little 
vain ; I can say that I never felt better satisfied 
with myself in my life. I can hardly help laughing 
now at this perfectly childish want of considera- 
tion. Children always think entirely of themselves, 
and never of the sacrifices they demand of others ; 
and, say what you will, there was a certain sim- 
plicity in this deed of Böttmann’s wife. She thought 
only of herself, and did not know what she was 
doing. Of course, I did not conceal from her 
that it was very selfish to disturb in this way the 
night’s rest of another, and that I did not feel 
flattered that she valued my power of conversation 
so highly, and summoned me to her house, and sent 
a sleigh for me. 

“ Still, as I was there, and my sleep out of the 
question, I talked with her as well as I could ; and 


WHY A VILLAGE PRIEST IS SUMMONED. 55 


she did her part in the conversation. She talked 
very well, or rather very badly ; for she enjoys most 
relating the worst acts of men, and saying how 
useless the present generation is ; and she con- 
stantly repeated, ‘ When I die, I will pray God for 
one mercy, — to give me a sign that I may know 
who were the murderers of my Vincent, so that 
they may be hanged and burned, even if they are 
half the village. 7 You know upon this theme she 
is imaginative in the highest degree. I have proofs 
that she did not love Vincent while he lived ; but 
now she persuades herself that her love for him 
was so deep that it is all buried in his grave ; for 
there is no heart so bad, that it does not seek some 
excuse for its wickedness, and believe it has once 
loved something, for whose sake every thing else 
must be despised. I spoke to her conscience, and 
told her it was well to love the dead, but for the 
dead we could do nothing, — only for the living; 
and that she ought at last to forgive Adam and 
Martina. I pictured to her the joy she would have 
in her little grandson ; I sought to persuade her 
that she had sent for me on this very account, but 
had hesitated to confess it to me openly. But I 
really think there must be a wolf wandering about 
there ; for the yell the woman uttered must have 
been learnt from one. I shudder as I remember 
it. I thought she would surely die with rage. 
She tore her cheeks with her nails, she gasped for 


56 


JOSEPH IN THE SNOW. 


breath, she fell back on her pillow ; but soon sho 
recovered herself, and, rising up, cried, ‘ I thank 
thee, Lord ! dear Lord, I thank thee ! Let me live, 
let me live long, even as I am; for, if I cannot 
stand, I can still cry, cry, and I will cry with my 
latest breath, “ 1 will not allow it ! I will not allow 
that a beggar’s daughter shall be a Röttmann’s 
wife ! ” Why are there no men who will send such 
a good-for-nothing, together with her child, out of 
the world ? The very priests are nothing but lazy 
black-coats ! There is no fear of God among them. 
They would have baseness and sin rewarded with 
good. She ought to stand before the church, with 
a straw’ crown, and do penance for her sins ; but 
here she shall never come. And if our Lord from 
heaven should come down, and if he should send a 
thousand such — such hypocrites, and if they should 
strangle me, I would still cry, “ I will not suffer 
it ! ” and to-day, to-day, must the preparation be 
made.’ 

“ Waked by the cry, the father and son had 
hastened thither ; and the old man seemed to take it 
for granted that I had forced myself into the house, 
and gave me clearly to understand that he would 
defend his wife, let Schilder-David send whom 
he would. Adam stood still, with his hands folded, 
and looked supplicatingly at me : I never thought 
he could show so much feeling. I felt like a person 
in a fairy tale, who had come to bring help to 


WHY A VILLAGE PRIEST IS SUMMONED. 57 


demons. ‘Is this a human family? Are these 
persons to whom, for ten years, I have preached the 
gospel of love ? ’ I said to myself. Every word I 
tried to speak, froze on my lips. I could only tell 
them to harness the horses again, and take me 
home. No one heard me, however; but at length 
Adam said, ‘ I will carry you home, sir ; forgive all 
that has taken place ! 9 

“ ‘ No/ cried his mother, ‘ you shall not ! Hold 
him, Christopher ! He could then marry his beg- 
gar-maid.’ The father commanded Adam to stay ; 
and then he swore to his wife, with his hand on the 
Bible I had just laid down (it seemed dreadful to 
me to hear him swearing by this book), — he swore 
solemnly that he would conclude the betrothal of 
Adam with the miller’s daughter to-day. 

“ I do not know how I got out of the house ; but, 
when I did, I called to the boy who had brought 
me, and said I would walk on a pace or two, and he 
could soon overtake me with the sleigh. I went 
down the mountain, in the early dawn ; and it 
seemed to me that I was fleeing from a hell where 
devils dwelt. I do not think I lost my way, but 
suddenly I found myself face to face with the wolf. 
The animal stood still a minute, and gazed at me, 
as if considering what to do, and finally went 
quietly into the woods. I must confess I trembled 
all over ; and never in my life did I feel such a 
chill as at that moment. It was intensely cold, and 


58 


JOSEPH IN THE SNOW. 


I had been very unwise to start. I waited a long 
time, and no one came. 1 The rascal/ I thought, 
‘is comfortable in the house, and is going to let me 
walk home . 7 I turned back, and now vexation and 
bitterness made me warm. Not far from the house, 
I met the boy driving slowly. I found then, for 
the first time, the cherry-brandy you gave me, which 
did me much good. While I was riding home, in a 
half-waking state, I cannot tell you what passed 
through my soul. Solomon, in Ecclesiastes, has 
written about a wicked woman ; and I think I 
could add an appendix to his writings. But, dear 
heart ! where were goodness and love, if there 
were no bad men to prove it? Still, I am very 
glad I have decided to leave the village. The fifty 
years I shall soon number need a more peaceful 
work. I have bored enough hard wood in my 
youth ; but, come what may, I shall remain firm in 
this : I will marry Adam to no one but Martina . 77 

Recovering her breath, and wiping a tear from 
her eye, his wife replied, “ Yes, I shall be glad 
when we are in another place, among men of gentler 
manners, who can appreciate you better . 77 

“Do not forget , 77 said the priest, “that, if we 
have had to contend with much rudeness and 
coarseness, we have found also many good men 
here. In our new home, there will also be both 
good and bad persons, and work enough. But 
now I am excessively tired, and must go to sleep. 


WHY A VILLAGE PRIEST IS SUMMONED. 59 


Keep the house quiet, and do not call me before 
eleven. Good-night, or rather good-morning ! 
When I get up, a year will have passed since that 
Röttmann-night.” 

He went into his chamber, which was ingeniously 
heated by the same stove that heated the parlor; 
for the stove was placed in the wall. Soon it was 
still as midnight in the house. The wife went 
about on tiptoe, and threw a cloth over the cage 
of the bird, to keep him quiet. The noisy, impor- 
tunate beggars outside, the sparrows and the gold- 
hammers, had a second breakfast this morning. The 
wind quickly carried away the crumbs which the 
housewife placed on the window-sill ; and the hun- 
gry birds flew far after them, as if they knew the 
priest must not be waked. The good woman then 
sat by the window, with her embroidery, and 
made a sign to every one who was approaching to 
make no noise : she saw the most welcome of all 
sights in the country, — the post-boy coming to the 
house, — and hastened out in order that he might 
not ring. She received several parcels from her 
parents and brothers and sisters : she did not open 
them, however, because she wanted her husband 
to have the pleasure of the surprise with her. 
One of the letters bore the seal of a dean ; but none 
was directed to her. 



ptjffpH, dear ! it is only Lois ! ” 
T3 " little Joseph had exclaimed; 
and thereupon his grand- 


E CHAPTER VII. 


schjlder-david’s home. 


father had given him a hearty box on the ear. The 
child cried, his grandfather scolded, and his mother 
scolded and cried at the same time ; for her father 
would not let her appease the boy with a coaxing 
word. Lois said in a wise, somewhat nasal tone, 
“This is frightful, — this reception that I meet. I 
ought to turn round and go back. We might be 
superstitious about it ; but, for heaven ’s sake ! let 
us have no superstition. That is the worst thing 
in the world : it makes us torment ourselves about 
things that never have been, while there are 
enough things already to trouble us. No, I will 
stay. Good-morning, Joseph ! Come, and say good- 
morning to me. Come, give me your hand.” 


co 


SCHILDER-D AVID’S HOME. 


61 


“He did not sleep at all last night, and did not 
know what he said,” Martina apologized. 

“We need no excuses, and will say no more 
about it,” said Lois, laying her shears, scissors, 
needles, and wax on the table, by the side of the 
best pin-cushion, which was a large covered brick. 

This was the act that gave her dominion over 
the whole household, and from this moment she 
ruled, as from a throne ; for she never stood up 
after she had sat down for the day. Before she 
took her seat, however, she w T ent into the chamber, 
and came back with one petticoat less ; for she was 
very particular about her appearance when on the 
street, and never suffered herself to sit down in her 
best petticoat. Returning, she moved the table to 
a convenient place, took her station, while Martina 
pushed a stool under her feet, and began to issue 
her commands briefly and clearly ; and first she 
said, “ Martina, bring on the breakfast ! ” 

Martina brought the oat-meal, and placed it on 
the table. Joseph said grace, and chose to-day the 
shortest of all his prayers : — 

“ To all poor children, day by day, 

Give thou their food and drink, we pray. Amen.” 

He had now dried his tears, and was sitting qui- 
etly between his grandparents. After the prayer, 
it was very still and peaceful at the table, each one 
helping himself from the pan, with a spoon. 


62 


JOSEPH IN THE SNOW. 


In the room, every thing was scrupulously clean, 
but very poor and mean. In the wall above the 
oven, just over a tall, old-fashioned chair, a brass- 
headed nail was driven, on which Martina’s confir- 
mation-certificate had once hung : the nail was 
empty now, and nothing would ever again be on it. 
Martina always avoided looking at it ; but David 
had given strict directions that it should not be 
taken out. 

The head of the house, Schilder-David, was a 
man of many years, — he could not tell himself how 
old he was, — with thick, snow-white hair, closely 
cut, and a white, slightly-curling beard extending 
to his temples ; but his face had a youthful fresh- 
ness, as had also his deep-blue eyes, which seemed 
out of place under those heavy black eyebrows. 

His wife, like him, was tall and slender; but her 
face — one could tell very little about that, for it 
was always bound about with two or three hand- 
kerchiefs. When she spoke, you quickly perceived 
that she was deaf, by the loud tone and apparent 
exertion, which showed that she could not hear 
herself. 

Neighbor Lois’s face was handsome, pale, — a 
rather remarkable face : no longer young, it had 
traces of a former, peculiar beauty. She always 
dressed tastefully. To-day, her jacket of black 
cloth was fastened only at the neck, and let her 
neat white stomacher be seen beneath. Who did 


schilder-david’s home. 


63 


not know it, would hardly see, that, from time to 
time, she took a pinch of snulf: her box was never 
visible ; and she took it so quickly and gracefully, 
that she scarcely touched with the tips of her fin- 
gers her delicately-cut nose. 

Little Joseph we could not believe was six 
years old only three weeks before : he seemed 
three years older. Compact and powerful in his 
limbs, what they call in the country “ a well- fattened 
boy,” he had wild, light-brown curls, with which 
his dark eyes and heavy eyebrows contrasted 
strangely. He was in truth the central point in 
the house, and his foolish welcome had disturbed 
every one. All were silent, therefore, at the meal ; 
once, Lois remarked that the priest had been to the 
Röttmann Farm the night before ; but Schilder- 
Havid quickly replied, “ Say nothing of the Rött- 
manns,” and looked significantly from Lois to 
Joseph ; and no one spoke again. 

They rose from the table. Joseph was measured 
for his jacket; lines were drawn with chalk on the 
green corduroy ; and then Lois’s great shears cut 
out the garment with a humming, snapping noise. 

“ You will stay at home to-day : the mill is 
frozen,” Schilder-David said, as he went to his 
workshop, which was a small room in the granary 
of the lower saw-mill. Here a lathe stood, with a 
band passing from it around a cylinder, which was 
connected with the great wheel in the mill, so that 


61 JOSEPH IN THE SNOW. 

the water-power which worked the large machin- 
ery turned also the lathe with which David made 
his clock-cases. 

Little Joseph stood as if forsaken when his 
grandfather went away alone, so contrary to their 
custom. Before, the boy had always been with 
him, and had lighted his fire with shavings, laid the 
boards in their right places, and put every thing 
in order. 

His mother called him into the kitchen, and 
there asked him, “ Why did you say so rudely, 
1 Oh, dear ! it’s only Lois ’ ? What did you mean by 
it? She is so good to you, is your god-mother, 
and is making you such a pretty jacket ! ” 

Joseph was silent. A child hardly knows what 
he has done a few minutes before, is not conscious 
of any motive in his thoughts, and therefore cannot 
explain his acts: his words are like the song of 
birds, without rhythm, yet coming from a hidden 
life. 

After a pause, Joseph said, “ Mother, isn’t father 
coming to-day? You said he was.” 

“ He is coming, he will certainly come,” an- 
swered Martina, and sighed deeply. Now it was 
plain ,to her why the boy had exclaimed, “ Oh, 
dear ! it’s only Lois.” When she had held the 
door open, Joseph had thought it was for his fath- 
er, and had uttered a cry of disappointment to see 
some one else. Now he continued talking of his 


schilder-david’s home. 


65 


father, who was to come on a great horse, and 
bring him one of his own. 

Martina tried to turn the thoughts of the child ; 
but it was of no avail. She had herself told him too. 
much of his father ; had talked to him often when 
she believed she had talked to herself in her 
heart’s distress : and now all the boy’s imagina- 
tion and thought were centred on this father, of 
whom he had formed a most wonderful conception ; 
and he had asked again and again why his grand- 
parents were so unkind to his father, whom they 
did not let come home. 

" Which way will he come ? ” he said. 

u I do not know.” 

u Yes, you do. Tell me ! You do know ! ” And 
the child began to cry. His mother quickly drew 
him to her, and whispered, “ Be still, be perfectly 
still, so that no one can hear us ; and then I will tell 
you.” 

With a great effort, he stopped his tears: and his 
mother told him what beautiful presents he would 
have for Christmas, and asked him. what be would 
like best. He wished a horse, and nothing else. 
The people had told him his father had fourteen in 
his barn. But all this diversion did not prevent 
him from repeating his question, “ Tell me, which 
way will he come ? ” 

His mother softly whispered, 11 You must not 
say a word to any one about your father’s coming 

5 


66 


JOSEPH IN THE SNOW. 


to-day ; give me your hand, and promise, not a 
word!” The boy gave his hand, and looked at her 
with his tearful eyes wide open. 

She was silent. She thought he was appeased ; 
but in a minute, he asked again, with obstinate 
persistency, “ Which way will he come ? ” 

u There are many ways ; but I think he will come 
up the valley. Now. that is enough ; not a word 
more ! Go and bring me some fir-cones from the 
shed !” The child did as he was directed ; and the 
mother said to herself, smiling, 11 He is going to be 
a very firm man : when he makes up his mind to 
do a thing, he will do it.” 

She went back to the parlor with Joseph ; but 
Lois said, “ Send him out ! We cannot say any 
thing before a child.” 

“ Joseph, go to Haspele’s : you know he is making 
you some new boots,” said Martina. Joseph, how- 
ever, did not want to go, and it was necessary to 
put him by force out of the house. There he stood 
defiantly, and said, “ When father comes, I will tell 
him every thing : I can’t stay anywhere, neither 
with grandfather, nor at home.” He went to 
Haspele’s, where he became at once bright and 
cheerful; for the shoemaker loved the boy, and was 
always ready with stories if the playthings he gave 
ceased to amuse. For a longtime, he had promised 
Joseph a dog; and the child was very curious to 
know how the animal would look, and what tricks 


schilder-david’s home. 


67 


he would do. Haspele always had a good excuse for 
not finding the dog: sometimes he said he wanted 
one that was large, and sometimes small ; at one 
time the dog should have four white feet, and at 
another be all brown ; sometimes should be a wolf- 
dog, and sometimes a pointer. 

In the mean time, Lois was talking with Mar- 
tina, and thought it incredible that the latter had 
not ascertained whether her chief enemy were yet 
in the world : she ought to go immediately to the 
parsonage, and ask after Röttmann’s wife. 

“ You remember,” said Martina, “ that once the 
priest liked to have me come to his house, but that 
now he does not. I cannot go without an excuse.” 

11 Well ! Go to my house, and you will find on 
my bureau with the looking-glass, in a china soup- 
plate, three night-caps that belong to the priest’s 
wife ; take them to her from me, and then you can 
hear how Rottmann’s wife is.” 

Martina did as Lois bade her. 



CHAPTER VIII. 


THE PRIEST’S COMFORTABLE HOME. 

AN there be a holy festival 
for such a woman as Rött- 
mann’s wife ? Can there be 
a human soul. that must go 
out of the world, and never 
have experienced that sol- 
emn delight that makes one’s 
own life, and the life of man- 
kind, a blessing ? That there 
can be, casts a shadow over the w T orld, and leaves 
no one entirely happy. 

Thus the priest’s wife thought, as she sat by the 
window ; but she soon drove away all dark reflec- 
tions, and in her soul it became like the clear 
morning of an endless festival, which is a spark of 
eternity. She stood up, and went about the 
house peacefully, like one beatified. The coming 
holiday, and the thought that her brother was with 
her, threw a light and a joy around her whole 
being, so that she smiled upon every thing ; and 



THE PRIEST’S COMFORTABLE HOME. 


G9 


while she prepared a good breakfast for her brother, 
who, she knew, would come back hungry from the 
chase, she smiled at the ham, the butter, and the 
eggs, as if she must thank them for giving nourish- 
ment and strength to man. They could not answer ; 
but the maid perceived that her mistress liked to 
talk of her brother, and said, u Your brother is a 
fine young man : when he came yesterday, I thought 
it was the prince who passed through the village, 
last winter, on his way to the chase.” 

She wiped her face with her apron, as if to make 
herself look fine, and added, “ I’m glad we’ve 
killed the goose,” as she cast an admiring glance at 
it hanging by the kitchen window. 

It was nearly ten o’clock when brother Edward 
came back. His sister told him the priest was 
asleep ; and he placed his gun in the corner as 
quietly as if it had been made of cotton. She was 
delighted with his hunter’s appetite, and sat beside 
him with her embroidery, relating the priest’s 
adventures. Her brother said he had done nothing ; 
for, although he had been close upon the tracks of 
the wolf, the animal escaped him in a ravine, where 
he could not go alone. He had been as far as the 
forest-mill ; and he described with great enthusiasm 
the magnificent yet awful landscape, — how the 
waterfalls were frozen, and large rocks shone all 
over like polished mirrors. And, the more awful 
he pictured the country without, the more com- 


70 


JOSEPH IN THE SNOW. 


fortable became the room within ; and so softly did 
the brother and sister speak together, while the 
warmth diffused itself through the room, that 
the clicking of the clock, and the crackling of the 
wood in the stove, were louder than their voices. 
Out of doors, a few flakes of snow soon began to 
fall, moving leisurely as if in play ; and in the room 
it became doubly cheerful. 

“ I have an adventure to tell you,” Edward 
continued. 

11 Wait till my husband comes in, so that you 
will not have to tell it twice.” 

“ No : I shall tell only you ; and you must com- 
mend my silence. I was standing at a short 
distance from the forest-mill, behind a bush, waiting 
for the wolf, when I saw two young girls coming 
along the road. They stopped not far from my place 
of concealment; and one of them said, ‘I must 
say farewell to you here. I thank you for your 
kindness ; my mother in heaven will reward you for 
it : but it is all over ; I must — alas ! why can one 
no longer be bewitched into a raven by a wicked 
woman? I would I were that raven which is 
passing over us ! Then 1 would not need to go up 
there, into that burning hell. See, my tears melt 
the snow where they fall; but a hard heart does not 
melt, and my father is entirely changed.’ She 
could not say more, for her tears were falling fast ; 
and her companion left her. She turned back 


THE PRIEST’S COMFORTABLE HOME. 


71 


towards the mill ; and then I could no longer stay 
where I was, and I stepped into the road. I was 
almost sorry I had done so, when I saw the great 
sorrow that lay on her beautiful young face. I 
wanted to comfort her, but I did not know what to 
say; so I only wished her good-morning. She 
looked at me, and stood quite still for a moment 
in surprise ; then she went on her way.” 

“ That was the miller’s Toni,” replied his sister, 
“ a good, kind-hearted maiden, who is to be Adam 
Röttmann’s bride.” 

“ Horrible !” exclaimed the farmer. 

“ Yes, horrible indeed! Toni is the only child 
of the miller. She had a good mother ; and, as long 
as she lived, the forest- mill was the most honored 
house in our parish, and the refuge and asylum of 
the poor. Little Toni always went regularly to 
school, till four years ago ; and it is a good hour 
and a half’s walk from the mill to the school. In 
winter, she rode on a donkey. Such a child, who 
would go so far through the woods and rocky val- 
leys to school, must become thoughtful and wise, 
granting, of course, that she is bright naturally ; for 
there are some stupid persons who never learn any 
thing of themselves or the world. But little Toni 
was bright, and she was often heard in the woods 
singing her songs or reciting her little pieces : she 
has a beautiful voice. Her mother died two years 
ago ; and the guardian who was appointed to assist 


72 


JOSEPH IN THE SNOW. 


her father is the inn-keeper at Wengern, whose 
sister soon afterward married the miller ; since 
then, the poor child has had no peace at home, and 
as her guardian is the brother of her step-mother, 
she has no one to protect her. So it happens that 
Toni marries Adam Rottmann.” 

The priest’s wife stopped abruptly, and listened. 
“Yes, the door must have been left open,” she 
said. “ I hear some one coming up the stairs. 
St ! Hush ! ” she exclaimed, opening the door. 
“ Is it you, Martina? Come in, but quietly, for the 
priest is asleep. What have you? ’ ■ 

“ A kind greeting from Lois, and the caps she 
sends you.” 

“ Why does she not come herself? ” 

“ She is at our house, making Joseph a new 
jacket, to-day.” 

“You dress Joseph too finely: you will spoil him.” 

“ Lois takes no pay from me,” said Martina, tim- 
orously looking around ; and, at this moment, the 
red kerchief which she had tied over her head fell 
down upon her neck. The young man looked 
searchingly at the lovely, oval face with the large, 
dark-brown eyes. Martina noticed the gaze, and 
looked down as she groped for the latch of the 
door. The wife followed her out of the room, and 
said, “ You would like to know how Adam’s 
mother is ? She is as she has been, very wicked ; 
but she is by no means very sick, although she 
sent for the priest in the night.” 


THE PRIEST’S COMFORTABLE HOME. 


73 


“God is my witness that I do not wish her 
death/’ protested Martina, crossing her hands upon 
her breast. 

“ I believe you. The priest had quite a heated 
dispute with her ; but he remains firm, and he will 
marry Adam to nobody but you. I will tell you 
all some other time,” continued the kind woman, 
and was going back to the room when Martina 
exclaimed, — 

“ 0 dear lady ! I do not know what to think of 
Joseph for two or three days: he speaks and 
thinks of nothing but his father. I must tell him 
about his father when he goes to sleep ; and his 
first word in the morning is of Adam. He will no 
longer go to school ; for the boys call him 1 the 
colt/ as his father is called 1 the horse.’ And Mar- 
tina laughed in the midst of her tears. Her listener 
could not help laughing also ; but she quickly 
replied, however, “I cannot stay with you now, 
because my youngest brother is here on a visit. 
Be very firm with the boy, for the whole village is 
spoiling him, and come to me again after the holi- 
day. Shut the door gently.” 

Martina went home with a heavy step ; and, as 
she w~ent, she sang again, — 

All eyes do sadly follow me 
Wherever I may go ; 

Yet thee I never can forget, 

However great my woe.” 


74 


JOSEPH IN THE SNOW. 


The priest’s wife, in the mean time, had returned 
to the room, and told her brother Edward that he 
had a quick eye, not only for landscapes, but also 
for human beauty. He expressed his deep regret 
that such gentleness and grace should sorrow in 
poverty and misery. 

“Yes,” his sister continued, “as you see her to- 
day, one could hardly recognize her as the same 
person who seemed dying for a year after Joseph 
was born. They say a word of Lois’s strengthened 
her ; for the woman said, 1 Do not pine away so, 
or people will sa}^ he was right to desert such a 
lifeless creature.’ This speech, and the growth 
of little Joseph, gave her new life.” 

While the sister was relating this to Edward, 
and he was eagerly listening, her head was bent 
towards the door of the chamber, as if expecting 
some sound. Now she was satisfied that the priest 
was awake, for he hummed the song she had sung 
with her brother the evening before : she imme- 
diately sat down at the piano, and sang again with 
Edward, — 

“ Nor good nor ill divide us.” 

The priest came into the room, smiling happily ; 
but he must have heard much in his sleep, for, after 
a while, he asked, “ Lina, is Martina gone ? I 
must beg that my directions are obeyed, and that 
she does not go in and out of this house.” 


THE PRIEST’S COMFORTABLE HOME. 


75 


“ She is so gentle ! ” urged Edward. 

“ That may be ; but it does not relax rigor where 
it is necessary. He who has sinned may grow 
better ; but the privilege of being at home in a 
priest’s house belongs to him no longer. It is the 
ruin of all humanity, that it is weakly exempted 
from punishment.” 

The face of the priest, that before was so mild, 
wore now a fixed, stern look. Soon he ex- 
claimed, — 

“Edward, give me another of your cigars.” 

Let us leave the three sitting comfortably to- 
gether. 



CHAPTER IX. 


BETROTHAL AND FLIGHT. 

C 1 the Röttmann Farm, no Mo- 
zart melodies were known; 
indeed, since Martina served 
there, no song had been heard. 
Still there was noise enough, 
for there was a constant roast- 
ing and stewing of meat ; and 
whoever came towards the 
house always perceived a 
smell of fat, which he carried away with him when 
he went. The reason of this was that Rottmann’s 
wife had whole tubs of melted suet and lard poured 
every year upon the paths ; for she would much 
rather they should spoil and be wasted, than that 
they should be given to a poor person. 

The men of the house did very little work ; for 
wood-cutters have this advantage over other men, 
— their possessions increase more rapidly, the less 
work they do. 

The house stood out boldly in the snowy land- 



BETROTHAL AND FLIGHT. 


77 


scape. To protect it from the weather, it had been 
covered with shingles, which were painted red, and 
gave it the appearance of a fire. 

This morning, there was wild confusion at the 
farm ; and what is there more unpleasing than a 
day begun with noise and disorder ? What kind 
of men must they be, who, waking from sleep, 
immediately break forth, in the holy calm of the 
morning, into loud wrangling and clamor, as though 
there were no sleep, no quiet oblivion for man on 
the earth, which lets him begin his life anew each 
day? 

The old wife, when she could rest, had always 
begun early in the morning, as if she were waging 
a war of annihilation ; but now, when she could no 
longer sleep, her restlessness could hardly be 
borne. She ruled from her sick-bed with double 
power, as from a throne ; and it is inconceivable 
what a constant worry and vexation she caused. 

“ I am well. I am going with you ; and, if I die, 
I am willing, after I have seen the compact made. 
Do you go, and I will dress myself carefully : now, 
this very day, it must be arranged with the miller’s 
daughter. Why do you falter, Adam? You should 
rejoice that I help you — I mean your father and 
I : by yourself, you would remain in misery all 
your days, and never come to any thing. If no 
one else will do it, I will show the turner’s family 
who they are.” 


78 


JOSEPH IN THE SNOW. 


The men were dressed in their Sunday clothes, 
and looked quite stately in their long collarless 
coats, and high boots that reached above the knees. 
These high boots are the undisputed right of the 
higher peasants : the lesser farmers and day-labor- 
ers wear, nowadays, shoes, with short trousers of 
leather, or long ones of ticking. Röttmann’s wife, 
who had not been out of the house for more than a 
year, was to-day as sprightly as a young girl. The 
sleigh was brought out, seats placed in it, and the 
parents, with their son, drove to the forest-mill. A 
messenger was sent before to announce them. At 
their arrival, every one was amazed to see the 
mother. The miller’s young wife put on her gentlest 
demeanor, the daughter could not but be courteous ; 
and in spite of her eyes, red with weeping, she 
looked so pretty and so neat, that a suitor who 
came to her with love would have rejoiced. Adam 
allowed himself to be conducted to the parlor as 
though he had no longer a will of his own ; and, just 
as the first snow-flakes were falling in the valley, 
his hand and Toni’s were given in pledge, and 
Adam was betrothed. It was not at all like a living 
hand that he gave or received ; and, after it was 
over, he drank a long draught of wine which the 
miller’s wife had placed before him. 

All sat feasting together till evening. Speidel- 
Röttmann had an endless capacity for eating and 
drinking; and now he threw to the right and left 


BETROTHAL AND FLIGHT. 


79 


large pieces of meat into the mouths of his two 
dogs, so that there was a snapping on each side 
of him. But in drinking, in drinking wine, and 
much wine, man has a pre-eminence over beasts. 
Often, when Speidel-Röttmann held his glass to his 
lips, he stroked the head of the dog on his left, as 
if to say, “ In drinking I alone indulge.” Adam 
was compelled to sit in the kitchen with Toni, 
while she prepared the mulled wine ; and the two 
old men drank together, and became more and 
more jovial, while the two mothers were chatting 
busily. When Röttmann spoke of Martina, and 
said it could easily be arranged with her, the mil- 
ler laughed, and said, “ The young people now- 
adays are a good-for-nothing set.” 

“ They haven’t a stout heart,” rejoined Röttmann. 
“ For seven years past, my Adam has tormented 
himself, and us too, on account of his folly. What 
did we care for such things ? ” 

“ We didn’t care a straw for them ! ” 

“You are right — not a straw! We cared as 
little as the cuckoo cares. Touch glasses I 
1 Cuckoo ! ’ ” 

“ You are right ! 1 Cuckoo ! ’ ” 
u Empty your glass ! 1 Cuckoo ! ’ ” 

“ You too ! 1 Cuckoo ! ’ ” 

And the two men clinked their glasses, and 
drank, and called to each other, “ Cuckoo ! ” 

The root- wine came : they poured that out, and 


80 


JOSEPH IN THE SNOW. 


drank, and called , 11 Cuckoo ” again ; and, after they 
had drained their glasses to the very dregs, they 
refilled them repeatedly, and laughed, and told 
wild, extravagant stories of what they called 
“ daring deeds ; ” and the conclusion to each was, 
that the youth of the present time had lost their 
courage. 

In the kitchen, Adam was standing by Toni. For 
a long time he said nothing, but finally he spoke : 
“ Tell me,” he said, “ why you have taken me. 
You know how it is with me.” 

“ As long as the world has been made,” she said, 
weeping, “I am sure no one ever before asked his 
promised bride such a question ; but still, Adam, I 
am glad you have asked me : it is an honorable 
and good beginning, if it is God’s will that we 
live together ; and it seems it is. Adam, you can 
never have Martina, and I am wretched, more 
wretched than you can imagine ; and so I have 
thought, that, since we are both so unhappy, we 
might perhaps help each other a little ; and I must 
leave my step-mother. I am in her way. You can- 
not think how one feels to see a stranger come into 
the house, look into all the closets and chests, and 
ridicule every thing that is not as fine and mag- 
nificent as she wishes. My heart bleeds when I 
think of all she does ; and my father does not oppose 
it. She has given to one of our servants the cups 
that belonged to my mother, and no one dared to say 


BETROTHAL AND FLIGHT. 


81 


a word against it ; and she did it because she knew 
it would give me pain. I shall become ill-tempered 
and wicked myself if I remain here. My soul is 
full of bitterness ; and there are words on my lips ; 
and thoughts in my heart — oh, dreadful ! I would 
like best to be lying six feet under the ground, and 
I should be there now if it had not been for the 
priest’s good wife.” 

“ I am sorry for you,” replied Adam ; “ but I — 
I have my own mother, but she is worse than any 
step-mother. I do not like to say so, but I must. 
My Martina has helped me to bear all, and not to 
run out into the wide world. Now, for the first 
time, am I wicked : before I was only thoughtless. 
I would rather you were ill-tempered and cross, 
that I need not pity you ; then I would tell you 
that you must give me up : but now — I do not 
know how to begin — I pity you — yes, I pity you 
from the bottom of my soul — but only think how 
it stands with me ! ’ 7 

It was an earnest talk, not a merry chat, that the 
two were holding, as the maiden stirred the mulled 
wine by the fire. 

The wine was ready at last, and she carried full 
bowls to the parlor ; but first she filled a glass for 
Adam. When she came back, he drank to her ; and 
when he had emptied the glass, and she had filled 
it again, and touched it with her own, he said, 
“You are certainly — you are — prettier than I 
6 


82 


JOSEPH IN THE SNOW. 


thought. It is not so bad, that they drive me to 
this. If only there were not another, — another, — 
then would I be quite happy. If I had seen you 
seven years ago, as you are now, I should be the 
merriest fellow in the world. Oh ! I felt some- 
thing go through my heart like a knife. Be 
patient ! I cannot say more now.” 

He sank upon a kitchen chair, held his hand be- 
fore his eyes for a time, and then he said in a 
low, indistinct voice, “ See ! I will tell you. Say 
nothing to your parents or mine. Give me your 
hand, and promise that you will say nothing.” 

She did as he requested, and now both hands 
were glowing. Adam continued, “ This is the 
very day when I have sent word to my Martina 
I would come to her. For nearly two years I 
have been obliged to go to church in another vil- 
lage ; and spies have been around me, so that I have 
not spoken to her or Joseph or the others for a 
year, and now I must keep my word ! And see ! 
I would give you a kiss; but — I will not do it — 
no, I will not do it — it were a sin till I am free.” 

“You are good, and you can speak so well!” 
said Toni, smiling ; “ and yet they say you are 1 but 
half-witted.” \ 

u They only half know me. No one knows me 
but Martina: she knew what I was before I ever 
said a word to her, and I knew her before she ever 
said a word to me. She noticed, — she is clever, — 





ADAM AND TONI. Page 82, 




BETROTHAL AND FLIGHT. 


83 


she noticed that I was at the same time the richest 
and the poorest boy in the Oberland : yes, she will 
tell you, she can do it so much better than I. Oh ! 
you cannot think how skilful she is, and what a 
good heart she has, and at the same time she is so 
cheerful, and so — so ” — 

Suddenly Adam started. To whom was he 
speaking? To his betrothed bride ! And she was 
gazing at him vacantly, as if she knew neither 
where nor who she was. Nothing could be heard 
but the laughter and voices of the old men, and 
the whispering of the women. Finally Adam 
spoke, “ So I have your word that you will tell 
no one ? I will now go to my Martina — to Mar- 
tina and Joseph — to the village. I shall be gone 
till the tree is lighted ; and then it is — or — may 
God keep you in the mean time ! ” 

The maiden looked wonderingly at him as he 
threw his gray cloak over his shoulders, put his 
fur cap on his head, and, taking his stout knobbed 
stick, swung it gayly in the air. He looked both 
handsome and frightful when he was ready. He 
went quickly forth, and Toni sat still on the hearth. 
After a while, Speidel-Röttmann came, and asked, 
“What is this? The dogs are whining in the 
other room : where is Adam ? ” 

“ Gone.” 

“ Where ? ” 

“ I cannot tell. He will soon be back.” 


84 


JOSEPH IN THE SNOW. 


“ So ! I know where he goes. Tell my wife noth- 
ing! Tell your father nothing! Has he been 
gone long? ” 

“ Scarcely ten minutes.” 

11 Go in, and bring me my hat ! Go quietly, so 
that they will not notice you. Take care that the 
dogs do not come out — or no — yes, bring my 
hat ! He is a fool : you are a very fine girl.” 

Toni moved away from the awkward figure of 
Speidel-Röttmann, and brought him his hat and 
stick. The old man charged her to say only that 
he would soon be back, and then started : he went 
very cautiously, putting his stick a long distance 
forward before he took a step. 





CHAPTER X. 


A FATHER SEEKING HIS SON. 



iHEN Adam came out into the 
fresh air, it seemed to him 
that he had just awaked 
from sleep. “ What has hap- 
pened ? ” he said to himself, 
and then added, “If I will, 
nothing has happened.” And 
now it seemed as though the 
hand he had lately given in 
pledge became suddenly cold, and he held it to 
his warm pipe-bowl. The w T ay to the village could 
not be missed ; but he was obliged to go slowly, 
for at the side of the road was a precipitous de- 
scent to the valley, and the snow was now falling 
so fast, that he could see but a few steps before 
him. He looked already like a wandering snow- 
man; but he knew every tree and every piece of 
rock on the way, and kept himself on the right 
path. When he reached the little elevation where 
the road begins to descend to the valley, he looked 


86 


JOSEPH IN THE SNOW. 


back once, and saw the lights shining in the forest- 
mill : he felt himself drawn powerfully towards 
them. “ She is a beautiful maiden, and a thou- 
sand have done like you, and are prosperous and 
happy : turn back ! ” 

But, with these thoughts, he began the descent 
of the mountain, and the lights disappeared behind 
him. Now his heart was lighter ; and in the snow 
he raised his clinched hand towards heaven, and 
swore, “ 1 will never turn back ! I would rather 
be poor all my life, and work for my daily bread, 
than to desert Martina and my child, my Joseph ! 
I have not heard his voice for two years : he must 
have grown very large, and 1 father ’ he will say — 
‘ father ! ’ ” 

Suddenly Adam stood quite still. “ Father ! 
father ! ” cried a child’s voice in the woods. Once 
again, “ Father ! ” quite distinctly. “ No, you must 
be deceived,” he thought: “how can that be? 
The wine must have bewildered you.” 

He lighted his pipe, which had gone out, and by 
the light of the match he could see all about him, 
in the snow, the footprints of a dog. “ What is 
this ? A dog must have lost his master, whom he 
has been seeking ; but there is no step of a man 
to be seen. What ails you ? Hasten on ! ” 

Listen ! Once more. This time, it is a man’s 
voice that calls from the mountain, “'Adam, 
Adam ! ” Are you again bewildered ? or is the 
world bewitched to-night ? 


A FATHER SEEKING HIS SON. 


87 


Adam grasped his heavy stick with great might, 
and cried, u Let them come, the whole race of 
witches, the whole hell, if it will ! I fear nothing. 
Have I not been indeed, these long years, in a hell, 
because I have submitted like a miserable, weak 
fellow (God forgive me!), and thought my mother 
would yield at last? — as though a horseshoe could 
ever be boiled soft. Now I have let them play 
this farce with me, and have been betrothed. But 
I will never do it ! — I will not, if the whole world 
comes. I will have my way, — my Martina and 
my Joseph ! Only come, you accursed world of 
witches ! What is that ? It must be the dog 
whose footsteps I saw. Come here, sir ! come 
here ! He will not come : great heavens ! It 
is the wolf we have heard about. He howls 
hoarsely ! he is coming nearer ! ” For a minute, 
Adam’s hair stood on end ; then he exclaimed, 
" You sh4.Il have your desert, and again and 
again.” The creature felt what kind of blows a 
man can give who is forced to his betrothal, and 
especially such a man as Adam Röttmann. The 
wolf became the scapegoat for the whole wicked 
world, whom Adam would gladly have had thus in 
his power. When the animal had sunk upon the 
ground, Adam did not trust him, — wolves are so 
sly! — but continued beating him unmercifully; 
and at last turned him over with the club, so that 
he lay upon his back. Then, as he gave no sign of 


88 


JOSEPH IN THE SNOW. 


life, Adam said with satisfaction, 11 Yes, you have 
had your desert.” Large drops of sweat ran from 
the man’s face. His pipe had been lost, and he 
could find it nowhere : it had fallen from his 
mouth, and even the spark which had been shaken 
out had terrified the wolf. At length, he took the 
animal by the neck, and continued his journey, 
dragging the wolf thus after him. When he saw 
the lights of the village twinkling in the distance, 
he laughed, and said, u When I bring them the 
wolf I have beaten to death with my stick, how 
astonished they will all be ! And what will my Jo- 
seph say ? Ah, boy ! you must have respect for 
your strong father. I will cut the wolf’s heart 
from his body, and you must wear it, that you may 
also be strong like him, — perhaps even stronger.” 

Adam had not been bewildered when he had 
heard his name : his father had followed him, call- 
ing, 11 Adam ! ” Had Adam also heard aright when 
the child’s voice called, “ Father ” ? 

The mysterious disappearance of father and son 
was not long kept a secret at the forest-mill. 
Röttmann’s wife knew well where they had gone ; 
and she raved over the folly of her husband, who 
had started forth after the obstinate boy. He al- 
ways was so rash when he did not take her into 
counsel ! Adam, too, received his share of abuse, 
which was not of a match-making nature : but the 
miller’s wife was wise enough to add, that their 


A FATHER SEEKING HIS SON. 


89 


friend knew how to joke well ; that she called her 
husband and son by the worst names, because she 
knew they deserved the best ; and both women 
looked up in surprise when Toni added, u From 
Adam I heard nothing but love, wisdom, and kind- 
ness, as long as he sat with me in the other room.” 
As at a signal, both women began to laugh : and 
Rottmann’s wife caressed Toni, and told her she 
was discreet ; and that was the way to gain power 
over men, who must obey ; for they were good for 
nothing without women, and a wife made a hus- 
band. She would except only the miller, her cousin. 
He, however, took no notice of the exception that 
was made of him : he merely groaned to every thing 
that was said, until the groans became a cough, so 
violent that it seemed as if he would suffocate. 
He had risked a large stake : he had emulated 
Speidel Röttmann in drinking ; and that is a ven- 
ture no one has ever tried unpunished. 

His wife was very careful of her husband, and 
helped him to bed up stairs. Then she came back, 
and said, u Fortunately he is asleep now. He 
ought to know that he cannot be a match for a 
Röttmann.” 

Flattered by this praise, her friend replied, 
“ Take care that he soon makes his will, with this 
cough ! ” 

“ People say, — God forgive me that I repeat it, 
and to you too! — but people say,” the miller’s 


90 


JOSEPH IN THE SNOW. 


wife complained, “ that you are a wicked woman. I 
would like to see another who would be so inter- 
ested in a forsaken widow ! ” 

She regarded herself as such already, and rubbed 
her eyes, and looked quite worthy of pity ; but, as 
this was to no purpose, she folded her hands, and 
looked beseechingly at the other woman, as she 
continued, “ And you will remember me, and will 
not let your ungrateful son have every thing.” 

Röttmann’s wife laughed, and said she had been 
quite misunderstood. It was true, she wished Adam 
no good ; but she was not such a fool as to leave her 
goods and gold to a stranger. Then she demand- 
ed that somebody should be sent after her husband 
and son. The head servant was called ; but he said 
he could not go himself, nor would any of the other 
men go, in such weather. If Röttmann had gone 
out, he could take care of himself, and would be 
back in good time. Next she desired that the 
sleigh should be brought to take her home. Once 
there again, she would show Adam and his father 
who was master ! But no one would drive her ; 
and the miller’s wife with her most persuasive 
words, and Toni with real earnestness, begged her 
to stay all night. In the morning, the weather 
might be better, the daughter urged ; and Adam 
had promised to be back when the tree was light- 
ed. She added that the children of the miller’s 
servants had been waiting a long time for the 


A FATHER SEEKING HIS SON. 


91 


lighting of the tree and for the presents. The 
two women received with favor the proposition to 
light it now ; and Röttmann’s wife praised Toni for 
her kindness, and gave the latter to understand 
that she knew that Adam and his betrothed had 
arranged some pleasant surprise. The switches 
which were to be hung upon the tree, the wild 
woman took, drew them through her left hand, 
holding them in her right, and snapped them in the 
air, so that it whistled. This sound seemed to be 
music in her ears. 



CHAPTER XL 


LEAVE THE CHURCH IN THE VILLAGE. 

HEN I receive a visit, I am 
doubly well ; and do you know 
wby ? In the first place I 
have a better appetite. Let 
one say what he will of the 
baseness of the human heart, 
the pleasure of entertaining 
a guest is a deep draught of 
all-diffusing human kindness.” 

“ And secondly ? ” asked the young man. 

11 Secondly,” replied the priest, 11 if I have a 
guest, I do not need to go out. The world has 
come to me. I make the whole journey with the 
traveller, and so have a right to remain in the 
house.” 

It was with an indescribable pleasure that the 
priest spoke these words to his brother-in-law as 
they sat at table. It was hardly noon ; but it had 
already begun to grow dark. As the farmer was 
filled with respect for the priest, so was the latter 
filled with delight at the cheerful, hopeful, and at 
02 



LEAVE THE CHURCH IN THE VILLAGE. 93 


the same time thoughtful spirit of the young man. 
There are still young men in the world : the misery 
of infirmity, of empty satiety, and of the loss of all 
attractiveness, does not move in a circle. There is 
another youth in the world, other than we were, 
infolding another future. Thus the priest thought 
as he listened with deep attention to what the 
young man said. This joy in the fresh, handsome 
face, but still more in the thoughts and disposition, 
of the young brother, whom he himself had once 
taught, was like a spiritual joy in the best thoughts. 
“ And you have a firm grasp,” said he, taking the 
well-formed hand of his brother-in-law. “ But 
never marry any one who cannot sing: it were a 
shame that you should not sing together ! ” 

The conversation wandered from one subject to 
another ; and, in the course of it, the farmer said 
that many young men formed a false idea of the 
life of a landholder, and therefore they became so 
often reckless and worthless. He himself, as son 
of a high officer of justice, had formerly suffered 
much from the consequences of false expectations, 
until he had learned to find his happiness in hard 
work. He was now manager of the estate of a 
nobleman ; but had given notice that he should 
leave, in order either to be an independent farmer, 
or to buy enough land for a peasant. 

In the midst of the conversation, a sound of per- 
sons stamping snow from their feet was heard. 


94 


JOSEPH IN THE SNOW. 


Three men were at the door, who soon came up 
stairs : tiiey were the church-wardens. 

“Edward, come into the other room,” said the 
priest’s wife ; and added, u This is my brother ; and 
these are Schilder-David, the wheelwright, and a 
peasant from Hartz.” 

“ Welcome ! ” said Schilder-David, extending his 
hand. “ But we beg you to remain, madam. What 
we have to say is good, if you and your brother are 
both here.” 

“ Sit down,” said the priest. 

“ Thank you ; it isn’t necessary,” answered Schil- 
der-David, who seemed to be the chosen speaker. 
“ In a few words, sir, there is a report in the vil- 
lage, — who brought it we do not know, — and our 
priest has a hundred times preached to our hearts, 
that, if we hear any thing of any one that we can- 
not believe, we should go directly to him and ask 
him. So, — no offence, — but is it true, sir, that 
you want to go away from us ? ” 

“ Yes.” 

There was perfect silence in the room for a 
while. Then David began again : “ Now I believe 
it, sir. We had, before you came, a priest who 
hated us, and whom we hated. Can any thing be 
worse ? How can love and kindness and holiness 
increase, when he who speaks the word and he 
who hears have nothing in common? We dread 
to have it so again. We know there are some in 


LEAVE THE CHURCH IN THE VILLAGE. 95 


the parish who have pained the kind heart of our 
priest : but, sir, the Lord was willing to spare Sodom 
if two good men could be found in it ; and you, sir, 
will leave us and condemn us because two or three 
bad ones are among us ? ” Here he stopped but, 
as the priest did not answer, he resumed: “We 
need not tell you, sir, how our hearts love you. If 
it is better for you somewhere else, we cannot help 
wishing you to go ; but every one in the village, 
every man, every woman, every child, wherever 
and whenever he meets the priest, feels as though 
something good had been sent him, as though he 
couldn’t pass by empty, and ‘ Good-morning ’ or 
1 Good-evening ’ isn’t enough. So now, sir, we 
only wish it will be the same in the new place, and 
that our priest will see that we have a new one, — 
not like him ; that we don’t expect, — but a good 
one.” 

“ Thank you, thank you ! ” said the priest. “ I 
will do what I can.” 

“ No, no,” said the peasant from Hartz. “ David 
hasn’t said what we wanted to say. We think the 
priest ought not to leave us : he ought to stay 
here. He should, as we say in the proverb, 1 leave 
the church in the village.’ ” 

“ I cannot recall my application for the other 
place if I would.” 

“ Then we beg the priest to excuse us for 
troubling him,” said the wheelwright, with a cer- 


96 


JOSEPH IN THE SNOW. 


tain proud feeling that lie had said something, 
and that not the worst thing. The men left the 
room. The priest’s wife accompanied them down 
the stairs, and comforted them by saying that it 
was not decided yet, and that she did not urge the 
decision of her husband, which had cost him much 
pain. To-morrow would be a better time to speak 
to him ; for to-day he was not feeling as well as 
usual : he had been called to the Röttmanns last 
night for nothing, and less than nothing. 

u I hear,” said David, 11 that they have all gone 
to the forest-mill to the betrothal. I did not believe 
that they would ; but I believe every thing now. 
The betrothal, however, will do them no good : 
we shall not consent.” 

The wife came back to the room where her hus- 
band and brother were still sitting together. No 
one spoke. The evening-bells began to ring in the 
festival ; and, in the hearts of the three who sat 
there, they sounded strangely indistinct. The wife 
at last said, “ I shall be sorry when I cannot hear 
those bells. What have they rung back to our 
hearts ! ” 

The priest sat quietly by the window; but after 
a while he said, as to himself, “ The hardest is the 
determination to leave our old ways. Now that I 
have decided by myself and before others, it would 
not be well to turn back. Let a light be carried to 
my room. I will soon see you again, Edward.” And, 
with these words, he went to his room. 


CHAPTER XII. 


WHERE IS JOSEPH? 

j Joseph?” asked Da- 
in he came home, 
is not here.” 
nt him home when I 
> the priest’s.” 
did not come.” 
must have gone to 
)’s again : I will go 
,” said Martina, and 

u Give him a good box on his ears for not mind- 
ing better,” David called after her. 

Martina soon came back, and said, 11 Joseph is 
neither at Häspele’s nor at the workshop.” 

“ So no one knows where the naughty boy is ? 
I will go for him myself.” 

Schilder-David went from house to house, and 
asked for Joseph ; but no one knew an}' thing about 
the boy. Finally he came back ; for he said to him- 
self, u He must certainly be at home by this time.” 

11 Where is Joseph?” asked Martina, as he 
7 97 



98 


JOSEPH IN THE SNOW. 


stepped into the little entrance-room that served 
as kitchen. 

“ He’ll come soon,” the grandfather answered ; 
but he went himself through the whole house, look- 
ing everywhere. He called in the garret the 
name of Joseph, and was startled at the sound of 
his voice in the empty room. He threw back the 
door of every cupboard, behind which no human 
being could find room to put himself ; and at last 
he went to the little fall in the brook behind the 
house, and opened the covered lime-pit, although 
it was frozen over, so that nobody could have fallen 
into it. As he was going back to the house, he 
met Haspele, who was bringing the new boots, to 
whom he confided that he had looked for Joseph 
everywhere, and that something must have hap- 
pened to the child : he did not know what, but he 
was much troubled. 

“Have you been at the bugler’s for him? I 
heard the bugler playing, and Joseph must cer- 
tainly be there. Take the boots, and I will find 
him.” 

The good Haspele went quickly down the village 
to the house of a stocking-maker, who was practis- 
ing some new tunes on his horn. The music 
sounded very cheerful in the still evening, when 
one could not hear his own footsteps in the snow. 
Joseph had a good taste, Haspele thought, to prefer 
the bugler’s to his own home. But Joseph was not 


WHERE IS JOSEPH? 


99 


there ; and, on his way back, the shoemaker told 
every one he met that he was looking for the boy : 
but no one had seen the child, who was nowhere to 
be found. Haspele returned with this sad mes- 
sage to David, who said, “Be quiet! Don’t say 
any thing to the women ; for they would cry, and 
make a great noise. Wait here a while. He has 
probably hidden himself: perhaps he is coming 
out when the three kings go round, and he fancies 
he does something fine. But I will make him 
fancy something else ! ” 

With apparent easiness, David sat down, whis* 
tling, and striking the air with his hand, as in 
anticipation of the coming punishment. 

“ I will wait quietly,” he said, and filled his pipe, 
and smoked ; remarking, in the mean time, that 
Joseph was a sly rogue, and that he must suffer for 
causing so much anxiety. Finally, the grandfather 
took down his Bible, and began to read where he 
had left off the evening before : it was in the second 
book of Samuel, chap, xii., where King David 
mourns over the sick child. 

This did not give the reader any peace : he left 
his seat, and went out again, listening. The bells 
were ringing in the festival. “ Now the boy must 
come,” he said ; but no one came. Dissimulation 
could no longer be practised. David went to the 
right, Haspele to the left, from house to house. 
Nowhere was there any trace of J oseph ; nobody 


100 


JOSEPH IN THE SNOW. 


had seen him. Both came back. The three kings 
passed by, and the boy was not with them. The 
men could conceal their anxiety no longer. 

“ Martina, Joseph cannot be found ” said the 
grandfather; and Martina uttered a wild cry of 
anguish, and said, 11 That is why he woke three 
times last night, and asked , 1 Isn’t it morning, yet ? ’ 
Joseph, Joseph, Joseph ! Where are you ? ” she 
called, going through the house, up the mountain, 
through the village, into the gardens, out into the 
fields. 

“ Oh ! if he is lost, I shall die. I shall never 
hear the new year rung in again ; and the tree 
that I bought for frames — let it be sawed into 
boards, and lay me on them.” Thus David mourned 
to Martina ; but she did not hear him, for she had 
long been gone. The neck-cloth about the old 
man’s neck seemed too tight for him ; he tore it 
off ; his whole face was convulsed ; and, do what he 
would to keep back his tears, they flowed fast. 
“ Joseph is certainly in the church,” he exclaimed 
suddenly, and hastened to it. It stood open ; and 
preparations were going on there for the midnight 
service : the schoolmaster was moving about with 
a taper in his hand, placing many candles upon 
the table. 

“Joseph, Joseph ! are you here ? ” David cried, 
coming into the church. His voice sounded 
strangely loud ; and the schoolmaster let drop the 


WHERE IS JOSEPH? 


101 


light from liis hand, as he answered, trembling, 
“ There is nobody here but me. What is the 
matter ? ” 

“ You have permitted the children to call him 
1 Colt ; ’ and you are also guilty if he is lost,” cried 
David, and hurried away. The schoolmaster, at 
this accusation, found his mind in as much dark- 
ness as the church, where he recovered his wax 
taper only after much stumbling. 

The whole village had collected by this time ; 
and even the bugler came upon the street with his 
horn, which he quickly put under his cloak to keep 
it dry. “ I will go up and down the village, and 
play,” he said ; 11 and then he will come.” 

11 No,” some one said : “ old Rcittmann’s wife has 
stolen him. She will compel you, Martina, to make 
Adam free ; for to-day, at noon, he was betrothed to 
the miller’s daughter, Toni. A boy from the mill 
has been here, and told us all about it.” 

“ I will not be foolish enough to believe that,” 
cried Martina. “Joseph, Joseph, come! Your 
mother is calling you.” 

While all were standing together thus, a funny- 
looking little man, with long-pointed parcels hang- 
ing all about him, came up the valley. It was the 
hatter from the city, who was bringing some 
freshly-ironed, three-cornered hats to the village 
for the holiday. 

“ What has happened here ? ” asked the little 
man. 


102 


JOSEPH IN THE SNOW. 


“We are looking for a child, Joseph, who is lost.” 

“ How old is he ? ” 

“ Just six years.” 

“ A large child with a great head, and light curl- 
ing hair, met me.” 

“ Yes, yes, that is he ! For Heaven’s sake, where 
is he?” And Martina rushed towards the man 
with such violence, that all his hats fell into the 
snow. 

“ Be calm : he isn’t in my pocket ! Below, in 
the woods, a boy suddenly met me. I said, 1 What 
are you doing here alone, when it is so near night ? 
Where are you going ? ’ — ‘ To meet my father,’ 
he answered : ‘ he is coming this way ; haven’t you 
seen him ? ’ — 1 How does your father look ? ’ — 1 A 
very large man.’ — ‘I have not seen him,’ I said. 
‘Come home with me, child.’ — ‘No, I shall go 
home with my father.’ I took hold of the boy, 
and tried to force him to come with me ; but 
he was very obstinate, and resisted : he finally 
slipped away from me, and sprang into the woods 
like a young deer; and I heard him calling far 
away, ‘ Father, father ! ’ ” 

“ That was Joseph ; for God’s sake, go after 
him ! ” 

“ We will all go, all ! ” 

“ Stop ! ” David stepped forward. 11 Stop ! hat- 
ter, will you go ? ” 

“ I cannot. I can scarcely lift my feet ; and, be- 


WHERE IS JOSEPH? 


103 


sides, it would do no good, for it is already more than 
an hour ago that I saw the child. I stopped above 
in the farm-yard, and who knows where he is now ? 
I can tell you just where I saw him : it was in the 
Otterswanger Forest, right by the brook, where the 
large beech stands: it is the only large tree; you 
all know it.” 

11 Good ! I will break olf a branch, and he shall 
remember it,” said Schilder-David, composing 
himself. 

“ No, do not beat him ! ” screamed Martina. She 
could not say that this was the place where Adam 
had first kissed her : perhaps, now, her child was 
lying there frozen — dead. 

“ It is dark : we can see nothing, and the snow is 
falling faster and faster ; so, take torches ! Let the 
alarm-bell be rung! — but we must get permission 
of the priest for that. Come to the priest’s 
house ! ” called Haspele. 

Martina was led home ; and, when she saw the 
new boots on the table, she sobbed forth , 11 Oh ! 
there are his boots : how glad he was about them ! 
And your little feet are frozen, are cold, are 
dead ! ” The women who surrounded her sought 
to comfort her ; and one was wise enough to say 
that freezing was a very easy death, — a person 
went to sleep and never woke. 

“ One goes to sleep on earth, and wakes in heav- 
en. 0 God ! my Joseph has prophesied ! He was 


104 


JOSEPH IN THE SNOW. 


too good, too wise; and he went to meet his fa- 
ther ! No, I will not die. If you go to the church 
with another, then will my Joseph call from heav- 
en, 1 No ! ’ and — 1 Father, father ! ’ he cried, and 
his father did not answer, did not know his voice. 
You shall know it by day and night. In your ears 
shall you hear called, your whole life long, ‘In 
your own forest, your child was frozen ; go out and 
search through it; it is of no use ! ’ Your heart 
is wood, nothing but wood ! And there stands the 
little horse with which my Joseph has so often 
played. Yes, you, too, look sad, you good little 
horse, so compassionate ! and yet you are wood, 
and he is wood too : but he has no compassion ; he 
has killed his child ! Oh, how often your little 
master has held crumbs to your wooden mouth, and 
-wanted you to eat! he was so good! 0 Joseph, 
Joseph ! ” 

“ It’s well if he is frozen, for the wolf is in the 
neighborhood ; and who knows if the beast hasn’t 
torn him to pieces?” whispered one woman to 
another. The ear of sorrow, however, is wonder- 
fully acute ; for, in the midst of her lamentation, 
Martina heard the words, and she suddenly cried 
in a loud voice, “ The wolf, the wolf! ” Then, 
gnashing her teeth, she raised her clinched hands, 
and said, “ I could take you and strangle you 
with these hands. 0 Lois, Lois ! for Heaven’s 
sake, why do you still sew? She still sews on the 
jacket when the child is dead ! ” 


WHERE IS JOSEPH? 


105 


" I have heard nothing. No one has spoken to 
me. I have heard nothing. You have said noth- 
ing. I say three times , 1 You have said nothing.’ 
You know I have no superstition. Nothing in the 
world is more mischievous than superstition ; but 
it is certainly true, — there is no mistake, — as long 
as anybody sews and spins for a person, he cannot 
die. There was once a king ” — And, in the midst 
of the confusion, Lois related her own version of 
the story of Ulysses and Penelope, — how this lady 
had sewed and spun ; and what she did in the day- 
time she took out in the night ; and by this means 
she had saved the life of her husband, who had 
gone to America. 

Lois feared that the others were not listening to 
her; so she did wisely, — she told her story unin- 
terruptedly, and sewed at the same time, without 
raising her eyes. Wherever she sat down, she re- 
mained, without rising, till the time came for her 
to go home ; and, whenever she began a story, she 
told it fo the end ; and, if the house had been on 
fire, who knows if she would have left her seat? 
The fire would have had to wait till Lois was 
ready. 

While Martina was in the house, mourning with 
the women, the whole band of men had gone to the 
parsonage, and Haspele had become the leader. 
The children had wanted to go to find Joseph ; but 
the mothers had held them back with tears, and the 


106 


JOSEPH IN THE SNOW. 


fathers had shaken off the clinging ones, and had 
scolded them well. The grandfathers, who had 
crept out of their warm corners on the hearth, took 
the women and children home again. 

It was as if an army went to meet an enemy. 
But who was the enemy ? 

There were some who thought it impossible 
to find a child in the woods in such a snow- 
storm : it was, they said, like looking for a needle 
in a haystack. Haspele cried, however, “ Who 
does not wish to go can return ; but we need no 
one to dissuade us : ” and not one of the company 
turned back. Haspele went up, and requested the 
priest to have the alarm-bell rung. The latter was 
deeply moved at what he heard of Joseph : never- 
theless, he said it would be useless to ring the 
bells ; it would needlessly alarm the neighboring 
villages, and, in some future calamity, they might 
not be ready with their aid. “ It is brave in you, 
and I rejoice that so many are going,” he added. 

u Not one young man in the village, who is not 
sick, remains behind,” said Haspele. 

“I must remain,” replied the priest, smiling. 
“ Röttmann’s wife robbed me of last night, and at 
twelve o’clock to night I must go to church. But 
we will pray for you all who are out.” 

“ I will take your place,” said the young farm- 
er. “ Who is the leader ? ” 

“We have none: will not you be, brother-in- 
law ? ” 


WHERE IS JOSEPH? 


107 


Every one laughed because Haspele, who did 
not know Edward’s name, called him brother-in- 
law in place of the priest. 11 My name is Brand,” 
answered the farmer. “ I know the road, for I have 
been over it to-day.” 

u The priest’s brother-in-law is going with us,” 
was soon announced to those in the street ; and all 
were much pleased at this. Haspele was right. 
Except the sick and infirm, no man in the whole 
village was wanting: all stood there with torches, 
climbing-irons, ladders, axes, and long ropes. 

“ Is there any one here who can give a signal ? ” 
asked the farmer. 

The stocking-maker immediately drew his horn 
from under his cloak ; and the instrument did not 
look brighter in the light of the torches than the 
face of the man who had become such an impor- 
tant personage. 

“ Good ! Do you remain with me. In my opin- 
ion, the best way is this: The signal-giver shall 
stay with me on the Reitersberg, where we will 
kindle a fire : then you shall all start, two by two, 
— no one alone. Whoever finds Joseph shall bring 
him to us on the Reitersberg, or, at least, bring 
us tidings of him. As long as he is not found, 
three long blasts shall be blown on the horn ; but, 
as soon as he is found, three short ones shall be 
given, and these shall be continued till all have 
again assembled — But better still ! I have my 
gun with me : are there not others in the village ? ” 


108 


JOSEPH IN THE SNOW. 


“ Yes, many ! ” 

“Do you take them; and, when Joseph is found, 
we will each fire three times, one after another. 
If we did not do this, it might easily happen that 
some of you good people would be wandering 
about in the ice and snow long after the child is 
found. ” 

“ He is right ! That is good ! That is like our 
priest’s brother-in-law ! ” 

The young farmer smiled, and continued, “ One 
thing more. We have beds and blankets; but 
isn’t there a dog in the village that knows Jo- 
seph ? ” 

“ All know him, all love him. You know Jo- 
seph, don’t you, Lightning?” Haspele asked of a 
large dog that stood by him. 

The large yellow dog barked his answer. 

“ That is well,” cried the farmer. “ Let all the 
dogs go ! ” 

“We will hang lanterns around their necks; 
and we will hang cow-bells and sleigh-bells about 
ourselves.” 

Every one became inventive ; but, fortunately, 
each one had the same end in view. 

“Now, give the signal once, so that all may 
know it,” the farmer said ; and the bugler blew 
with all his might. The sound had hardly died 
away, when Martina came running toward them, 
and cried, “ Here are his clothes ! ” 


WHERE IS JOSEPH? 


100 


u Let the dogs smell them,” the leader com- 
manded. Martina was almost overthrown by the 
dogs that were brought to her ; and Haspele 
considerately took the garments from her hands. 

u Call the dogs ! Let us go for Joseph l” the 
farmer called. “ Now, forward, march ! Joseph is 
the watch-word ! ” 

“ Stop ! ” a loud voice called behind them. 
11 What is going on here ? ” 

u Adam ! — you ! ” screamed Martina, and rushed 
towards him. “ What have you there ? Have you 
found our Joseph ? v 

11 What ? J oseph ? This is the wolf that I 
killed with my stick ! ” 

“ That is the wolf that has torn our child in 
pieces ! ” Martina cried, staring in horror at the 
dead animal. Haspele was wise enough to tell 
Adam, in a few words, every thing that had taken 
place. The latter still held the wolf by the neck ; 
but now he shook him powerfully, and then hurled 
him with immense force over the ditch into the 
field. “ I do not tear your heart from your body 1” 
he cried. “ You have torn — and here I swear 
before all, whether the child is dead or not, my 
Martina is mine in life and death. God forgive 
me that I have been so long such a weak, irreso- 
lute, worthless fellow ! I call you, men, all to 
witness. And may you strike me dead if I do 
not take Martina home, even though my father 


110 


JOSEPH IN THE SNOW. 


and mother, and the whole world, shall oppose 
me ! ” 

“ Say nothing of that now ! ” Martina entreated, 
and hid her face on Adam’s breast. For the first 
time, she could weep ; and Adam laid his hand upon 
her head, while his chest heaved with strong 
emotion. 

At a noiseless signal, the band of men, with 
their bells, torches, and dogs, moved on. Only Hiis- 
pele, with a torch, remained with the unhappy par- 
ents; and he saw, when Adam looked up, large 
tears, which glistened in the torch-light, roll down 
the cheeks of the strong man. But Adam shook 
them off, as if in anger, and said finally, “ Come, 
Martina, we will certainly find him. I cannot 
believe that he is dead. I heard him call in the 
forest : I could not think that it was a human 
voice ; and it was my child’s voice ! ” 

u And how many hundred times he has called in 
the darkness, and you have not heard him ! ” 

11 If he is still alive, he shall never speak again, 
and I not hear him.” 

“ God grant it ! Amen ! ” said Haspele to him- 
self, as he went before them with the torch. 


CHAPTER XIII. 


THE WILD ARMY. 



have left of him. And here are his new boots, 
which he never put on ; and his little wooden horse, 
which I did not know I had taken.” 

11 What ! Does he like horses ? Then he will 
like his father.” 

Do not jest now. Think ! you are speaking 
of the dead.” 


in 


112 


JOSEPH IN THE SNOW. 


“ Lost is not dead ; and who knows if he has not 
come to some house, or somebody has not found 
him and taken him home ? ” 

As a proof of gratitude for the consolation which 
Adam gave her, Martina laid the clothes upon his 
arm, saying, “ There, only you must carry them.” 
When they came to a weeping-willow, which, in its 
covering of snow, looked strangely weird in the 
torch-light, Martina continued, “ There is the tree. 
When our Joseph was not yet three years old, I 
went there with him ; and, because the leaves hung 
down, he said, 1 Mother, the tree is raining leaves.’ 
He has often talked so that we have forgotten 
whether we were on the earth or in heaven ; and, 
at the same time, he has grown so strong, so re- 
markably strong, I have been obliged to use all 
my strength when I have wished to hold him. 
And, now, to die so ! It is indeed frightful. Jo- 
seph, Joseph, my good Joseph, come back! 
Where are you ? I am here. Your mother is here, 
and your father too! Come, Joseph, Joseph! 
Call, Adam ! Can you not call with me ? ” 

“ Joseph, Joseph ! ” Adam cried in his loudest 
tones. “ My child, come to me ! Joseph, Joseph ! ” 
He who before had trembled in whispering the 
name in secret, now called it through the forest. 
But presently he ceased, and said, “ This is of no 
use, Martina. Be calm, or you will make yourself 
sick.” 


THE WILD ARMY. 


113 


“ If my Joseph is dead, I no longer wish to live. 
I have no one in the world but him.” 

11 Ah ! I did not know that. I thought I was 
something to you.” 

“ Why will you quarrel with me now ? ” moaned 
Martina ; and, for a long time, neither spoke. But 
Haspele was a good mediator : he came to Martina, 
and entreated her to drink some of the brandy he 
had so considerately taken with him for Joseph. 

u No, no ; I do not need it ; and I will take noth- 
ing from my child ! ” 

11 Only a little,” Adam urged as tenderly as his 
voice would permit. u Our boy cannot drink all 
this if we find him.” 

u What do you say? If we find him? You 
surely know something, and will not tell me. You 
know that he is dead.” 

“I know nothing; I know as little as you: 
but I beg you to drink a little.” 

“ Oh ! if Joseph only had it, it might bring him 
back to life ! I do not need it. Do not ask me to 
take it ! ” 

But Adam persisted until Martina drank. That 
was a good opportunity for him to take her hand; 
and they went on again together. 

She spoke now in a low voice, and told how 
secret Joseph always was; how he whispered in 
her ear what he could as well say before every one : 
but he liked best to do so ; it was his peculiar way. 

8 


114 


JOSEPH IN THE SNOW. 


And lie must certainly have had something to say 
to his father alone ; then Adam could have felt how 
it thrilled one to hear Joseph’s voice in his ear. 
“ His warm breath is now gone ! ” she concluded, 
and wrung her hands. Suddenly she grasped 
Adam’s arm, and cried, 11 0 God ! there is the 
rock where I should have died, had not Lois 
found me. If we had died together there, before 
you came into the world, it would have been bet- 
ter. Where are you now ? Perhaps you are lying 
but a few feet from us, and we do not see you, and 
you do not hear us. I will go from hill to hill, to 
the top of every rock, into every valley. Oh ! why 
cannot I be near you and call to you? Joseph, 
Joseph, Joseph ! I think I see him now on that 
rock. He is standing as if ready to leap down. 
Pie is still unhurt. How pretty he looks as he 
laughs at the thought of the leap 1 But he falls ! 
I see him no more. Oh, how quickly ! And there 
below lies my child, bruised and dead. Can it be? 
What have you done, poor boy ? You are not 
guilty ! ” 

u Leave these foolish fancies ; they are of no 
use,” Adam remonstrated. But Martina hissed be- 
tween her teeth, “ You are most guilty ! A father 
can deny his child, can pass him by as though he 
were not in the world ; but a mother never can. 
You are the most guilty ; you ! ” 

“ Why do you reproach me with that now ? ” 


THE WILD ARMY. 


115 


“I do not reproach you. Why do you quarrel 
with me ? ” 

u I do not quarrel with you ; I do not contradict 
you : only be quiet a little while, and to-day all our 
sorrow shall end.” 

“ How can you speak of sorrow ? ” 

“I will say nothing more, — only be quiet a mo- 
ment. Hold on to me ; so, so ! ” 

11 No, no ; I cannot,” Martina abruptly exclaimed, 
after she had leaned a short time on him ; 11 1 cannot. 
0 dear God ! do any thing with me ; only do not let 
my Joseph suffer. He is innocent ; I alone am 
guilty, — I and” — She pointed to Adam, and 
moved away a few steps, as though she could not 
bear to have him near her. Her eyes were dry 
now ; but she sobbed bitterly from time to time. 

By this time the troop of men had separated, and 
were now penetrating the forest. Men with torches, 
with lanterns, with loud shouts and cries, with the 
cracking of whips and the tinkling of bells, were 
hurrying to and fro; dogs, with lanterns hanging 
from their necks, ran barking up the mountain, and 
down the ravines. It was w T ell that perfect order 
was kept, for no one knew another ; each seemed 
only a wandering mass of snow: and, in the light of 
the torches, the mountains and rocks seemed to be 
looking in astonishment at the men who came 
hither, and called and cried for a lost child. 

u See how all the village loves him 1 ” Martina 


116 


JOSEPH IN THE SNOW. 


said to Adam ; and tlien she told him about Joseph’s 
waking in the night, and about his asking in the 
morning which way his father would come ; and 
she reproached herself for having obeyed Lois, and 
sent the boy from the house : she ought to have 
known that something terrible would happen to- 
day. Adam was entirely helpless ; he knew not 
what to say ; and when he thought of the forest- 
mill and all who were expecting him there, and of 
the injustice he had been induced to commit, it 
seemed doubly terrible to him. 

Suddenly a shout of joy burst upon their ears. 

“ What is it ? What is it ? Thank Heaven, they 
have found him ! When ? where ? ” In a moment, 
the smith met them, and, holding up something to 
them, cried, “ Here is his cap ! now we shall soon 
find him ! ” 

Martina seized the dripping cap, and wept hot 
tears upon it. u Oh ! now he is without a cap, and 
the snow is falling on his head.” She shaded her 
eyes with her hand, and gazed at the smith, who 
had forgotten to wash his face when he started, on 
which the snow had drawn strange figures, while 
his red beard was full of snow. 

“ Keep in the road, so that we can find you in- 
stantly,” the smith said ; and, as he turned to go, 
he added, “ We shall serve you so well to-night, 
that we shall be entitled to many drinks at your 
wedding.” 


THE WILD ARMY. 


117 


It was like the wild army of the old legend that 
now roamed the forest ; and one man was there who 
saw it in person. Speidel-Röttmann, while seeking 
his son, had taken a false step, and had been pre- 
cipitated into the ravine. The fall had the effect 
of making him sober, but did not injure him. He 
walked a long distance over the frozen brook ; and 
the trees and rocks looked down upon him like 
frightful giants, and shook the snow upon him as 
he went. He did not know whether he was going 
up or down the stream, and he looked for a stone 
to break the firm covering of the water ; but he 
could free none from the hold of the ice : the 
whole country was in chains, and could give him 
no help. “ Ah ! ” he exclaimed presently, u here is 
a clearing ; here is a mountain-path.’ 7 He began 
the ascent, climbing on his hands and knees, often 
sliding back, almost buried in the snow ; but a 
Röttmann’s strength Avas not to be baffled by these 
obstacles, and he reached the top at last. As he 
extended his hand for the last time, he felt some- 
thing on the ground: he took it up, and found it 
was a pipe. He looked at it carefully. “ This is 
Adam’s ! ” he cried : “ he must have gone by this 
place. But which way ? right or left? ” The foot- 
prints were effaced ; and he went first in one direc- 
tion, then in the other, as if led astray by an evil 
spirit. “What is that?” he suddenly exclaimed ; 
for there came sounds as of horns blowing, whips 


118 


JOSEPH IN THE SNOW. 


cracking, dogs barking. “ What is it? Gracious 
heavens, it is the wild army ! It is the rider on 
the white horse, with his furious troop, that crack 
their whips, and scream and yell ! And I hear the 
voices of children crying. They say, when the 
wild army comes, whoever looks up shall have his 
head taken off and turned around.” All the terrors 
of hell took possession of Speidel-Röttmann. Ho 
had often boasted that all the stories of witches, 
ghosts, and devils, were lies ; but now every hair of 
his head stood on end, and gave proof that the 
former generation was no wiser than ours, but be- 
lieved every thing. “ Forgive me,” he cried, “ that 
I have not believed: I will.” He sprang from the 
path into the forest, and threw himself down, with 
his face upon the ground, so that the wild army 
would pass by him, and not strangle him. So he 
lay, hearing it rage about him. He thrust his hand 
into the snowy mass, and held to it firmly. It is 
well that something is always firm in the world. 
u Hold fast, hold fast ! or you will be lifted in the 
air and placed upon a tree, — who knows where ? — 
and you will have your face turned round ; and, in 
that condition, you will have to run about all your 
life.” Now it seemed as though some one mock- 
ingly cried, u Isn’t this your forest ? But you 
yourself, together with all your forest-keepers and 
wood-cutters, cannot prevent the wild army from 
running through it. Do you hear a child’s voice ? 
Do you know it ? ” 


THE WILD ARMY. 


119 


Speidel-Röttman was at a loss what to do. His 
breath melted the snow in which his face was tying ; 
and, in the view of death, he called, “ Joseph ! ” as 
if that word could release him. “ I swear it ! ” he 
cried again. The thought seemed to penetrate his 
heart, that a child was living on the earth to whom 
he had done a great wrong, and who was moaning 
and weeping high above him in the air. He would 
call back his son, and his son would call back his 
own. It was like a chain, he thought, which binds 
one to another, and ever farther, and — 

“ I consent ; let me go free : you shall have your 
child.” With these words, he dared to raise him- 
self a little : the tumult, the cries and shouts, 
sounded farther away. “ Who are you ? who are 
you? ” suddenly cried a man, who seized him, 
not like a human being, — no, like a spirit, — like 
a wild animal with claws. 

u I am a miserable sinner ; I am Christopher 
Röttmann. Let me be. Be merciful ! ” 

11 Ah ! I have you at last ! ” the man cried, kneel- 
ing down upon him. “‘You must die ! You have 
disowned, killed my grandchild, — thrown us all in 
misery.” 

u Who ? What ? You are ” — 

“ Yes. You shall know who beats out your 
brains with this axe ! I am Schilder-David. Yes, 
you accursed Goliath, I have you in my power, and 
you must die ! ” 


120 


JOSEPH IN THE SNOW. 


Röttmann’s strength returned to him. In an in- 
stant he cried, “ Oho, oho ! I have nothing to fear !” 
and his hand quickly followed his thought. He 
released his arm, and drew out his long knife, that 
he always wore ; then he exclaimed , 11 Let me alone, 
David, let me alone, or I will stab you ! ” 

11 Your deeds of violence shall have an end!” 
cried David ; and, with all his force, he tore the 
knife from Rottmann’s hand. But the latter 
seized this opportunity to spring upright ; and now 
David lay in his power on the ground. “ Do you 
see ? ” he said triumphantly : “ now I can kill 
you ! ” 

“ Do it ! Destroy my whole family ! You have 
killed my Joseph : kill me too ! ” 

“ Stand up ; I will not hurt you ! ” Röttmann 
answered. “I do not know whether I am insane, 
or you, or the entire world. Why did you come 
here ? What is going on in the woods ? ” 

David began to relate what had happened ; but, 
in the midst of the story, he broke forth, “ It is not 
right for me to speak to you. You and your son 
both deserve death. I will not make peace with 
you : one of us must remain in this place. Strike 
me down ! I will willingly go from this sinful 
world. I have nothing left in it.” 

Saying these words, David threw himself upon 
Speidel-Röttmann, who held him by the arms as 
firmly as if he were in a vice. 


THE WILD ARMY. 


121 


11 1 pity you ! ” said Röttmann. 

u I will not have your pity. You are not worthy 
to speak to an honest man. You infernal rascal! 
carry your head high as you please ; the gates 
of hell are broad and high enough to let you 
enter ! ” 

“ Insult me as you will ; I am stronger than you. 
But listen to what I say. You see no man can 
compel me, — no man in the world can compel me — 
But I have something to say to you. I need 
not keep my promise, — no mortal heard it ; and 
with the devil, and the wild army that people see, 
it is only superstition ; and if I will not, nobody 
can make me. But hear what I say. No one was 
here ; and you need not know why or what or 
where or to whom I promised. This is my forest, 
and here I am master ; and if I find you here in 
the dark night, with an axe, I can bind you — 
can kill you if you try to escape — as I please. 
But all that is not what I have to say. I only 
wish to show you that nobody can compel me. But 
I will do it, and so it shall be ; and here’s my hand 
upon it. If the child is found, living or dead, you 
have my hand upon it ; I will not oppose it.” 

“ What ? ” 

“ Adam has my consent. And, in fact, I never 
was strongly opposed to it ; but I was obliged to 
submit to my wife. I have been wandering in the 
forest, — I do not know how long, — and below 


122 


JOSEPH IN THE SNOW. 


there, when it seemed to me that the rocks would 
fall down upon me, I thought I heard a child’s 
voice, calling, 1 Father, father ! ’ and now I know 
who it was. But I cannot tell you how that voice 
pierced my heart ; and I promised myself, that, if 
it could be, Adam should marry Martina. I give 
you my word.” 

“ When the cow is gone, you make a stall for it. 
It is too late ! There is no more happiness or bless- 
ing in the world. If you had known the child ! 
He was an angel from heaven. Ah, good God ! 
now he is dead, and no one knows where. There 
was once a time when I thought I could not go 
before the eyes of men, on account of him ; and 
now I would go out of the world because the 
child is no more. I was indeed unworthy to have 
such a grandson ; and you are more so. I will 
make no peace ! No ! One or the other of us 
must die ! Strike me down ! It is right ; for then 
I can go out of the world with my Joseph.” 

In his anguish, David threw himself a second 
time upon Speidel-Röttmann, who again held him 
so that he could not stir. And, in fact, a miracle 
must have taken place in Röttmann ; for he suc- 
ceeded in calming David, so that they finally went 
together to look for Joseph. 

“ Joseph, your grandfather calls ! ” cried David. 

“ Joseph, your grandfather calls ! ” cried Speidel- 
Röttmann. David looked around as if to assure 


THE WILD ARMY. 


123 


himself that Röttmann really called so. The turner 
was the only man, who, in spite of the farmer’s com- 
mand, had gone forth alone : now he had found a 
companion, and such a one ! 

The horn sounded on the mountain ; the torches 
and the lanterns moved here and there ; the dogs 
barked, and ran up and down ; the bells tinkled ; 
and the two grandfathers went together, as though 
they had followed the same path from their youth. 
Finally a light was seen in the distance ; and they 
directed their steps toward it. 



CHAPTER XIV. 


LOIS’S STORY. 

HE Schild er-David’s house, in 
the mean time, seemed no 
longer like a small one that 
belonged to a small family. 
Everybody went in and out ; 
and many left open the door, 
which David’s wife shut ev- 
ery time, without speaking: 
neither did any one stop to 
shake the snow from his feet ; and the woman 
again and again rolled up the mat that lay on the 
floor, and shook it before the door. 

Lois drew the cricket on which her feet rested 
near to her, in order that the other women who 
were sitting around the table should not share it ; 
for she was not accustomed to sit in a damp room, 
particularly in such a watch-house as the Schilder- 
David’s had become. 

The mistress of the house threw more and more 
fuel into the stove, till the heat was intense ; but 

124 



LOIS’S STORY. 


125 


Lois understood how to keep a large audience, her- 
self in particular, awake. 

While the storm raged without, and the men 
wandered in the night among the rocks and ravines, 
and the whole village was in commotion, two things 
remained unmoved, and kept perfect time : these 
were the clock on the church-tower, and Lois 
before her cushion. 

Martina had gone with the men ; but there were 
still many women in the house. They complained 
that their husbands should put their own lives 
in danger in order to save a single child; when, in 
doing so, they might leave their own children in 
sorrow and poverty. But Lois began, while wax- 
ing her thread, “ Yes, it is dreadful to be lost in 
the woods. I know about it : for it happened to 
me once in my life ; and once is enough. For 
Heaven’s sake, never let yourself be persuaded to 
go through the woods a nearer way, unless you 
know it ! The nearest way is the devil’s way : am 
I not right ? Isn’t there always a short road to the 
devil ? When I think of it, it seems as if it were 
but yesterday; and who knows if poor Joseph 
hasn’t gone the same way ? The hatter met him by 
the large beech-tree; and I went by that. God 
forbid that he has gone where I went ! It was the 
Sunday after St. John’s Day, — no, it was Monday, 
— never mind, it was a holiday, Peter and Paul’s, 
I think : we do not celebrate it ; but the Catholics 


126 


JOSEPH IN THE SNOW. 


do. It was a beautiful, clear day, and I was going 
away. I had nothing with me but a short velvet 
cloak, wrapped in a cloth, for the daughter of the 
peasant who lives among the elder-bushes at Wen- 
gern. You remember her? She is a widow now. 
But they say she is going to marr} r a young man 
from Newstädtle ; for she has been there two Sun- 
days in succession, and he has come home with 
her. She is very foolish, I think, to marry a young 
man. Then she was not married to her first hus- 
band, who was the miller’s nephew, — the old mil- 
ler, I mean. So I started, and went first down the 
valley. It was a very fine year : we haven’t had 
one like it for a long time, — rain and sunshine just 
as we needed it. When I came to the forest, I met 
the constable’s children, — the boy and girl : the 
boy was afterward a soldier, and was shot. The 
girl is in Alsace ; and they say she is well married. 
They had come here to bring their two goats, which 
they kept in that part of the forest where the 
hazel-trees are. So I asked the children — I don’t 
know why — if there wasn’t some nearer way to 
Wengern. 1 Oh, yes ! ’ they said, 1 1 ought not to go 
by the broad path : I ought to turn into the woods 
at the left, by the juniper-trees.’ I wanted one of 
them to go with me until I saw my way clear ; for 
I had a presentiment: but the children were so 
stupid, they would neither go together nor alone. 
So I went on by myself ; and, when I came to the 


LOIS’S STORY. 


127 


place where the inn. now stands, — then it was far 
in the forest, — I called to the children to know if 
I was right ; and they cried, ‘ Yes ! ’ — at least I 
thought I heard them. So I went on and on ; and 
I found it very cool among the trees. I rejoiced 
that I was in the forest, where it seemed like early 
morning, although it was nearly ten o’clock ; for I 
knew it must be very hot in the village. When a 
person has to sit still a good deal, it does her so 
much good to take a long walk ! and then I was 
young, and could run and leap like a young colt. 
Around the beech-tree, there were so many straw- 
berries ! but I did not stop. I ate a few, and then 
hurried on. I walked and walked, I do not know 
how far, and could not see any end to the path, 
which first went up the mountain, and then down. 
1 What is this ? Is it a labyrinth V I said to myself ; 
for they say in a proverb, that any one who is 
lost, is in a labyrinth, and a labyrinth never leads 
one to mortals. I did not knpw it then ; but I 
learned it, and I have paid dear for knowing it. 
1 Ah ! ’ I thought, 6 the time seems longer to you 
than it is ; and every road is long when one stops 
often ; 1 so, although I was very tired, I did not sit 
down. I heard a rustling in the trees above me, 
and presently a withered branch fell to the ground. 
I looked up, and there was a little squirrel clinging 
to the trunk of a tree, and gazing at me with his 
eyes wide open. I watched him as he ran up the 


128 


JOSEPH IN THE SNOW. 


branches, and then I saw there were two playing 
1 catch ’ together. Ah, how fast they went! now 
here, now there. I must say I take great pleasure 
in animals, and I have to thank my mother for that. 
A hundred times she has said to us, 1 Children, 
notice every thing, wherever you may be, for it 
costs nothing ; and you do not know how much good 
it will do you to think about every thing you see/ 
But I knew nobody should ever be stopped long 
on the road by any thing ; that is what makes us 
lose the way. So I went on again, and soon came 
to a young fir-wood, which was so thick, that it was 
quite dark in it, but refreshingly cool. Something 
was lying there. What was it ? A herdsman 
asleep. I screamed with fright; and he awoke, and 
stared at me with his great eyes, as if he would 
say, 1 You stupid creature, to wake me from my 
noon nap ! ’ I ran as fast as I could, for I thought 
the herdsman was coming after me ; and I felt that 
he would take me to one of the high peaks, and 
throw me down the mountain : so, whenever a dry 
branch fell from a tree, I trembled in every limb. 
Thank Heaven ! the forest was at an end at last, I 
thought, as I came out upon a meadow, which was 
perfectly red with butterflies. I never saw so 
many in my life. I stood still, I was so glad to see 
them and the open meadow ! A hawk flew scream- 
ing far above me in the sky, and I watched the bird 
as he went. It is certainly beautiful to see them 


LOIS’S STORY. 


129 


swim so in the air. ' But, away ! 7 I said to myself, 
'you must not delay . 7 

'* After I had crossed the meadow, I came to a 
little footpath ; and then I felt sure I must be near 
some dwelling. Here I found a bone button, which I 
put in my pocket; and it was well that I did so, for 
I had entirely forgotten that I had a bit of bread 
with me. This tasted so good ! I never enjoyed 
a wedding-feast more ; for in the wild woods you 
forget that men can sow and reap, can thresh and 
grind and bake. The path was so narrow, that I 
was obliged to push the branches aside in order to 
pass between them ; and on each side there was a 
steep descent, like a roof. ' Oh, dear ! 7 I thought, 
' if some wicked man should come and rob me, and 
throw me down there, nobody would ever find me ! 7 
If he had come, I should have said, 'Take every 
thing I have. Here is my brass thimble and fif- 
teen kreutzers. You may have them all, only let 
me go ; and I swear to you I will never betray 
you . 7 Now should I need to keep such an oath? I 
think, for the sake of other people, that I should 
have told what had happened to me, that they 
might not be robbed in the same way. In my ter- 
ror I began to sing ; and, rack my brains as I would, 
I could think of no hymn, except, ' The grave is 
deep and still , 7 which wasn’t very cheerful : so I 
sang light, frivolous songs ; but still my heart boat 
fast in fear. At last I was over, and theiA was a 

9 


130 


JOSEPH IN THE SNOW. 


large, beautiful, level meadow again; but it was 
warm, excessively warm : my cheeks were burning, 
and I was as if just pulled from the water. There 
was a loud buzzing here, as of ten thousand bees. 
1 Oh ! if I should step into a wasp’s nest,’ I cried, 
1 and the wasps should fly out on me, and make me 
intoxicated! ’ For my mother has told me that it is 
so, — one becomes intoxicated, and nothing helps 
anybody, but springing into the water; and here 
there was no water to be seen. Oh, how I longed 
for some ! I was so thirsty ! 

“ But what did I come to next ? The road 
stopped finally ; and there was a steep descent 
to some enormous rocks heaped together in the 
wildest way. 1 Have I come to those rocks in 
Rockenthal, where no human being has ever set 
foot ? ’ I asked myself. But, no : I could not have 
gone so far. I cried, 'Dear Hod, where am I?’ 
and I shuddered to hear the echoes repeat, 
1 Where am I, where am I, where am I ! ’ It was 
said at least seven times ; and it seemed as though 
some one prolonged the sound till it reached 
the skies. It came from the rocks and the cracks, 
and made real music, as though somebody sang 
the words who had a longer breath than man’s. 
I called the names of all I loved, and of all who 
loved me. I called and called: I loved every 
one. When one is in danger of death, all strife 
ceases.* I called again and again ; but nobody 


LOIS’S STORY. 


131 


heard me, — not one human soul. It was of no 
use: so I began to look about me, and I discov- 
ered another path that went through the woods. 
I followed that until it came to the side of a moun- 
tain ; and then I turned to one side, and found 
myself at the edge of a steep precipice. I sprang 
back as far as I could ; but I was dizzy : and it 
seemed to me that the precipice was pulling and 
dragging me down. 1 sat down, and thanked God 
that I was still on solid ground. A gold-hammer 
was sitting on a tree near me, and singing ; but, as 
soon as I looked at him, he flew away to the moun- 
tain opposite. Gold-hammers always make a cat’s 
back when they fly : they fly higher than the place 
where they alight, and then fall suddenly down. 
1 Oh, a bird is happy ! There is no mountain and 
no valley for him. If I could only fly ! ’ I cried. 

“ As soon as I was able, I turned in the other 
direction, — to the right. Here was a valley, deep 
and hollow, like a caldron. 1 Oh Heavens ! have I 
come to the Court of Death?’ I cried. I thought 
I saw in the distance an elder-busli ; and that is 
found only where men are or have been. Yes, 
the elder-bush and the swallows in the air were 
signs that men lived near. But I could see no 
house ; and there was such a strange light on 
every thing ! — as if the sun were eclipsed. It was 
neither light nor dark, and the trees and the moun- 
tains seemed trembling with fear. Alas ! I must 


132 


JOSEPH IN THE SNOW. 


have been at the Court of Death. Hundreds 
of years ago a rich peasant lived here, — so rich 
and so ungodly ! And he and his wife and chil- 
dren used to bathe in milk every day, but would 
never give a drop to a poor person. They were 
worse than Röttmann’s wife. At last our Lord 
punished them ; for one Sunday, as they were 
playing ball with cheeses, in the meadow, the 
earth opened, and swallowed the whole household^ 
man and beast. Some time they will all wake 
again, and will appear only for a single hour. It 
is not right to tell children such stories ; for it 
makes them superstitious. I was not superstitious, 
however; but, although it was day, such black 
clouds were in the sky, that my hair stood on end. 
What I dreaded most was not the human beings 
who would come out of the ground, but the dogs 
that would immediately begin to bark and howl. 
That would have been frightful. 1 All this isn’t 
true ! ’ I cried, and that gave me new courage. 
Once, I thought it would be wisest to turn back, 
and not go to Wengern that day ; but the way 
home was so long ! and I knew as little about it 
as of the way before me. Beside, I should be 
ashamed, I thought, to tell the people in the vil- 
lage that I had lost my way. So, I said to myself, 
1 Go on, and, if you do not come to Wengern, you 
will come to some place : only don’t have any 
superstition ; for it is still broad day, and to-night 


LOIS’S STORY. 


133 


is full moon. You can go home when you are 
rested, or you can stay in Wengern all night: 
nobody will be waiting for you.’ 

“ This last thought made me feel very sad, — that 
I was alone in the world, that nobody would in- 
quire about me, and that nobody would care much 
if I were lost. I must say, I almost cried then ; 
but in a minute I thought that there were many 
who would ask about me, and how frightened they 
would be, and how pleased at all that I could tell 
them. 1 Yes/ I said; ‘but isn’t it almost over? 
I have enough, quite enough, to tell already.’ I 
was tired, — oh, so tired ! But that was nothing: 
I had to keep on. 

“ By and by I heard a boy singing on the moun- 
tain. I did not certainly feel like singing; but I 
did, and loud too. When I was young, I could call 
louder than any one : people could hear me an 
hour after I had passed them on the road.” 

Here Lois put her hands to her cheeks, and 
uttered one of those shrill cries which are like 
sharp mountain-summits, that descend in broken 
slopes to the valley. She could call wonderfully 
loud for her years. 

Schilder-David’s wife, who had not heard a 
word of the whole story, sprang from her seat by 
the stove, and asked, “ For Heaven’s sake, what is 
it ? 99 The other women had much trouble in paci- 
fying her, and explaining why Lois had called so 


134 


JOSEPH IN THE SNOW. 


loud. At length she sat down again, murmuring 
“ I am rested. If I could only lend my feet to 
Martina ! ” The other women urged Lois to con- 
tinue. She waxed a fresh piece of thread, and 
began slowly to sew the collar to the jacket. It 
had been ready for this some time ; but she did not 
wish to finish it, because it was surely true that a 
mortal could not die as long as anyone was sewing 
for him. No one wanted to sleep till the men had 
returned, and the midnight service was over ; so 
they all were doubly glad to hear the story. 

After Lois had unobservedly taken a pinch of 
snuff, she resumed : — 

u I called, and the boy answered me. I cried, 
1 Where does this road lead ? ’ But he only called 
in the same way again in reply. ‘ To the devil 
with your shouting ! ’ I said, and then I was fright- 
ened at the words ; but I could not take them 
back. I knew now that there must be another path 
through these woods ; but I was sure it must be a 
wet one, for the ground never could dry under 
those thick trees. 1 There are springs/ I said. 

1 Oh, if I could only drink at them ! 1 But, when 
I came there, all I gained was wot feet. I walked 
at the edge of the path, and there it was soft as a 
bed. The moss was so thick, that I know nobody 
had ever taken a handful of it since the creation of 
the world. At length I came to dry ground again, 
and found myself going down the mountain ; but I 


LOIS’S STORY. 


135 


could no longer see the path, for the pine-needles 
do not let you see where any one has passed. My 
shoes were as slippery as glass ; and I tore my 
hands on a thorn, so that they bled. But I did 
not mind that, when I saw a little piece of brick, 
which I took up, to be sure of what it was ; and 
then I knew that some human being must have 
been here, for brick does not grow. The most 
beautiful diamond would not have given me more 
delight than that bit of brick. I went on now 
quite peacefully, and wasn’t at all frightened when 
I saw a snake coiled up and lying in the sunshine. 
I threw my piece of brick at him, and he hurried 
away. Oh, how many strawberries there were ! 
Nobody gathered them, because nobody came that 
way, unless he was lost ; and I — foolish thing ! — 
did not dare to take a few and quench my thirst, 
for I thought the snake must have poisoned them 
all. I saw what I thought must be a channel 
for sliding trees from the mountain opposite. I 
thought I heard a brook flowing. 1 This is cer- 
tainly our brook,’ I said; 1 or is it only the rustling 
of the leaves above me ? ’ When one is lost, he 
hears nothing aright. But I knew I must go 
down into the valley, be it what it might ; so I 
took off my petticoat, and held my bundle in it. 
This bundle had given me much trouble ; for 
when we are going up and down hill, with any 
thing under our arm, even if it is not heavy, it is 


136 


JOSEPH IN THE SNOW. 


very tiresome ; for it keeps our arm fast-bound to 
our side. Now I heard a wagon, I thought, in the 
valley ; and I fancied there must be a good road 
there to let a wagon roll so smoothly : then the 
wheels seemed to turn a corner, and then the 
sound was lost. Alas ! I had been deceived again. 
It was only the murmuring of the trees. 1 1 will 
listen to nothing, I will help myself/ I cried, 
and tried to run down ; but it was so steep here, 
and the ground so hard, that I could not find a 
foothold ; and I was tearing a pair of shoes for 
which I had paid two florins, — twice as much as I 
earned making the cloak. 1 But what of that/ I 
thought, 1 if I only escape with no bone broken ? 1 
I fell only once. We never ought to hold by any 
thing that we do not first examine. Broom is an 
excellent support ; for that is firm in the ground. 
I took hold of the root of a tree, and the root 
remained in my hand while I rolled down several 
yards. I shut my eyes, and thought I was dead ; 
but I stopped finally on a rock, which was cov- 
ered xyith ants. I got away as fast as I could, and 
went into the thicket near the channel. I kept 
that in sight all the time, and jumped from one 
tree to another ; or, rather, I tried to jump, but I 
could not. I was like the sparrows when they 
flap their wings, and fall through the air. I laugh 
when I think of it ; but I did not feel like laugh- 
ing then. I tried to comfort myself by thinking I 


LOIS’S STORY. 


137 


should have a story that would last my whole life 
long; and I said, ‘No, no; go on ! You will not 
die. Go on ! ’ So I caught one branch of a tree, 
and then another ; and once I slipped : but I did 
not fall again. The stones rolled under me, hopped 
high in the air, and I thought I could hear them 
plash in water down below. I knew, if I fell, I 
should fall like them ; so I began to creep on my 
hands and knees again, and still kept on that side 
of the thicket where I could put my feet nearer 
the channel. After a long, long time, I was 
down. But, stop! — another step, and I should 
have stepped into death ! There was a bank as 
high as a liouse, smooth as if cut away with a 
knife. There I stood, holding to the top of a fir- 
tree that was in the valley ; but I could see no 
path. I stepped back a little way, and leaned 
against a tree ; and now I could see where I was. 
There was water flowing. God be thanked and 
praised ! There was the valley ; and, once there, I 
should be at home again. How cheerful and 
friendly and true the water seemed ! It half 
quenched my thirst, just to see and hear it. I 
thought I had done the hardest piece of work in 
my life when I had at last clambered down the side- 
path into the valley ; and, when there, it seemed 
to me I stood upright for the first time. The per- 
spiration was running off me, drop by drop. I 
sat down on a log that lay there, right by the large 


138 


JOSEPH IN THE SNOW. 


beech-tree, where the hatter found Joseph. Oh, 
how warm 1 was ! A horse that has been gallop- 
ing seven hours could not be more heated. I 
would have torn off my clothes, but I knew it was 
cool in the valley. The sun was going down 
behind the mountains now ; and, when I had started, 
it was long before noon. 

“ I saw some swallows flying by, and, oh, how 
glad that made me ! I heard a cock crow ; and 
no nightingale ever sings as sweetly as a cock 
to any one who is lost. I knew I was again in the 
world. I heard a hen cackle ; and, 1 when an egg 
is laid, some woman is made glad/ I thought. I 
heard a dog bark ; and, 1 wherever a dog barks, 
some man is near. I am again in the world ! ’ I 
cried. Soon I heard the rushing of a mill. Where 
was I ? 

11 While I was lost, I did not once give way to 
my feelings ; but now, when I remembered in how 
much danger I had been, I cried till I thought I 
should never stop. I could not keep my tears 
back. Fortunately, a wood-cutter passed by, and 
I asked him where I was. He said I was close by 
the Rottmann Farm ; but he did not stop. I called 
after him, 1 What o’clock is it ? ’ — 1 Past five.’ So 
I had been wandering about seven whole hours, 
although I could not believe it. Seven hours ! If 
I were superstitious, I might have thought that I 
had been led by the evil spirit that always leads 


LOIS’S STORY. 


139 


one astray just seven hours. I went up the brook ; 
for I knew that was the way to the forest-mil], and 
by and by I came to the path that leads to it. I 
turned into this ; but I had gone but a few steps, 
when I found that I had left the cloak which had 
given me so much trouble, and which I had 
guarded so carefully. 1 Great Heaven ! ’ I thought, 
* perhaps the wood-cutter has stolen it, and I shall 
have to pa} 7 for the velvet, without any compensa- 
tion/ I ran back. Men are good and honest 
enough when they don’t know where any thing is. 
My parcel had slipped behind the log, and there 
it lay. 

11 The miller’s wife was a good woman : her 
daughter Toni is like her. She gave me dry 
clothes, and was as careful of me as if I had been 
her sister. But, for three days, I felt as though 
I had been beaten all over ; and when I came 
home — ah ! when one has been lost, she believes 
there is no longer any home, — a place where she 
will find her own bed and looking-glass and table 
and bureau and singing-book. Oh, what good 
friends these are ! and how we love them, and 
want to thank them for not running away, but 
waiting till we come ! And do you know what is 
the worst part of being lost ? It is to have people 
laugh when you tell them about it. But I wish no 
one to suffer as I did, not even Röttmann’s wife. 
And that was a beautiful summer day, the Sunday 


140 


JOSEPH IN THE SNOW. 


after St. John’s Day, — no, not Sunday; it was 
Monday, Peter and Paul’s Day. 

“ Oh, how must it be in the snow to-night ! One 
could do nothing but lie down and die. Oh ! I see 
the child before me, lying in the snow, or in some 
gap of the rocks ! He beats his hands. His 
feet are stiff, so that he cannot walk. He cries 
1 Mother!’ and listens, and thinks somebody is 
coming ; but nobody answers except the raven on 
the tree. A hare runs by over the snow, and is 
frightened at the child, who looks after him, and 
forgets his suffering for a moment. 1 Mother, 
mother ! ’ he calls; and it is well that he will soon 
go to sleep, never to wake again. Oh ! I am the 
most unhappy person, to see all this ! But I must 
see it ! It has always been so with our family, 
and my mother has often been called a witch. 
Think what happened to the poor child who lies 
buried at Wengern ! He was found in the woods, 
on the third day after he was lost, quite covered 
with snow, which was melted only around his 
heart. All who saw him cried as if their hearts 
would break ; and his mother became really insane 
on account of it. The priest wrote a beautiful verse 
for his tombstone. I used to know it by heart ; but 
I have forgotten it. And what happened to the 
hatter, who was carrying some hats to Kmeslingen, 
one New Year’s Day? He came to the same rocky 
precipice where I was when I was lost, and from 




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LOIS’S STORY. 


141 


there he came to the valley ; but there was such a 
fog, that he could not see his hand before him. He 
ran at least seven times around the valley, and could 
not find the village. He heard sounds ; but, when 
he was on one side, they seemed to come from the 
other. Finally, he heard some geese ; and he fol- 
lowed their cries, and came straight to the village 
at last. But how he looked ! — as if he had just 
come out of the ground. One thing I forgot to 
tell you, — the miller ” — 

Here Lois was interrupted by a loud cry before 
the house. 



CHAPTER XV. 


A CHILD SEEKING HIS FATHER. 



OIS had been mistress 
of David’s house from 
morning till night ; so, 
of course, she had ban- 
ished Joseph whenever 
she pleased. In her pres- 
ence, no one spoke of 
this ; but, among them- 
selves, all the women blamed her for it. 

The news that the priest was to leave the vil- 
lage was told first to her ; and, at this time, she 
showed that she had not been called “ the council- 
man of the village ” in vain. She immediately sent 


142 


A CHILD SEEKING HIS FATHER. 


143 


the wardens to the priest to dissuade him from his 
purpose. 

A boy from the forest-mill had been buying wine 
at the inn, and sugar and spices at the grocer’s. 
Of course, this could not be kept secret in the vil- 
lage ; and the report of it soon found its way to 
David’s house, where Lois was, who must always 
have the freshest news. All took a certain pride 
in being the first to tell her any fact, and seemed 
to consider it a duty to give her information upon 
all subjects : sometimes, in fact, they gave it to 
her in anticipation. Now, there was a real pleas- 
ure in mixing the root-wine for the betrothal of 
Adam and Toni ; and Lois added many spices to it, 
very different from those bought at the grocer’s. 
She wished that the words she spoke might poison 
it, that all who drank of it might die. But she hes- 
itated for whose death to wish most, — that of 
Röttmann’s wife, or that of the miller, who would 
sell to such a mockery his only child, in order to 
save her dowry. 

Martina had been very sorry to send Joseph 
from the house ; but she knew that he ought not 
to hear the words that would be spoken : and, 
although she had not united with Lois in her 
curses, she had wept and lamented. She had sent 
Joseph a second time to Haspele ; but the child 
was tired of hearing of a dog he was never to pos- 
sess, and accordingly he went through the village, 


144 


JOSEPH IN THE SNOW. 


to the meadow. On his way, a woman who met 
him said compassionately, “ You poor child ! This 
is a sad day for you ! ” He thought she meant 
that he had been driven from the house. But 
soon another, wisely cloaking the bad intelli- 
gence, asked, u Joseph, where's your father? You 
haven’t seen him for a long time, have you ? ” 
The boy saw that something was going on in the 
village, and that everybody noticed him ; but he 
kept his word to his mother, and told no one that 
his father would come that day. 

It was snowing very fast when he came to the 
ice in the meadow. He slid up and down, watch- 
ing the path by which his father was to come. 
After a time, however, he felt lonely, and went to 
find his grandfather. When he came to the little 
workshop, he stood still before the door ; for he 
heard the voices of two other men within. They 
were saying that the maid at the parsonage had 
said that the priest was going to leave the village, 
and that Röttmann and the miller were the cause 
of it ; and then the men began to abuse Adam, 
and to say he was indeed “ a horse ; ” for he let 
himself be bridled and driven wherever others 
pleased. Soon the men came out ; and the grand- 
father said, u What ! you here, Joseph ? Go home, 
and I will come soon.” He did not take the boy 
by the hand, as usual, but went with the other 
men, toward the parsonage. 


A CHILD SEEKING HIS FATHER. 


145 


Joseph stood looking after them; and then, sud- 
denly, as if some one had called him, he turned 
and ran out of the village, into the field, to meet 
his father. 11 He will be glad to see me, lie will 
put me on his horse ! ” he said to himself ; and 
away he ran through the field, into the forest, with 
light steps. Now and then he stopped to gather 
the snow from his face and clothes, and make it 
into balls to throw at some tree, which he always 
hit. In the woods, he went more slowly, and often 
looked around him. On a mountain-asli sat two 
bulfinches, twittering as though half asleep, and at 
times picking the red berries, more of which fell 
to the ground than they ate. “You are such sim- 
pletons ! You lose more berries than you get ! ” 
Joseph said, and went on, thinking of the silly 
creatures. Below, in the valley, a bird was sing- 
ing by the brook, so sweetly, so fervently, it 
seemed like a thrush. As Joseph came along, the 
creature, still singing, flew away ; and, the farther 
the boy went, the farther the bird flew along the 
brook, calling, as it seemed, “ Come after me, 
come after me ! Come here ! Here I am ! Here 
it is beautiful, beautiful ! ” But, the faster the 
child hurried after him, the faster he flew. There, 
where there is a sharp bend in the path, the snow 
lay very deep. Joseph sank to his knees at the 
first step ; but he was wise enough to climb a rock, 


146 


JOSEPH IN THE SNOW. 


and come down upon the path again, the other 
side of the snow-bank. 

“It is well,” Joseph thought, “that there are 
these mountain-ash-trees here, where the path 
goes down : I could find my way by them. Are 
these my father’s trees?” he asked aloud. But 
the trees could not answer him, and there was 
nobody near to hear him. A fox was standing not 
far off in the thicket, and gazing at him. The 
animal seemed to wonder what this apparition 
meant. He remained immovable till Joseph cried, 
“ Go ! ” and then he trotted away, but not very 
fast ; and the boy said, again aloud, “ Yes, grand- 
father, you are right. Now, I have seen for 
myself. The fox drags his tail on the ground, 
and wipes out his footprints, so that nobody 
can tell where he has gone. He knows a good 
deal ! ” 

Magpies were chattering on the tree-tops, and a 
cross-bill was on a rock in the valley. The boy 
nodded to the bird several times, and the bird 
nodded back, but did not utter a sound, although 
it opened and shut its mouth constantly, as if to 
say, “ I am hungry.” “ You shall have this,” 
cried the boy, throwing the only piece of bread 
he had down into the valley ; but the bird thought 
it was a stone, and flew away : and the bit of bread 
was buried in the snow, and nobody had it. 

The boy went on, stopping occasionally under a 


A CHILD SEEKING HIS FATHER. 


147 


tree or an overhanging rock, to watch with delight 
the snow, that above whirled so confused!}' in the 
air, and then fell so softly and regularly to the 
ground, covering every thing more deeply. il To- 
morrow, father must draw me on a sled,” he said ; 
and, at the thought of his father, he went on faster 
and faster. It was growing dark, and he began to 
feel a little afraid ; but he kept on. It was well 
that Schilder-David had guarded him against the 
superstitions current in the country ; although 
Haspele had told him that the souls of the dead 
danced at night in graveyards, looking like 
lights ; and that a rider on a white horse often 
'went through the forest, in the air, cracking his 
whip, and carrying a fir-tree as tall as a church- 
steeple, for a switch : and the boy thought of 
this, as night came on. There was a stone cross 
erected on the path, in the place where a boy, 
with a horse and w r agon, had once fallen from the 
mountain, and on the cross sat a raven. “ You 
are nothing but a raven,” Joseph said, and threw a 
snowball at the bird. Farther on, he came to a 
shrine, in which he saw the figures of men dressed 
in summer clothes. He broke off the branch of a 
fir-tree, and wiped the snow from the figures that 
were gazing at him so fixedly. There were five 
of them, standing under green trees, and wearing 
white shirts, with green suspenders, and short, yel- 
low trousers. They stood in a circle, each bear- 


148 


JOSEPH IN THE SNOW. 


ing an axe in his hand, while in the foreground 
was one who stood by a man that was lying near a 
fallen tree, bleeding and writhing. The boy* read 
the inscription, “ Vincent Röttmann was struck 
by a tree, on Aug. 17 ; he sustained great injury, 
and died on Aug. 20. God grant him eternal 
peace, and punish all the guilty!” Joseph shud- 
dered : the men were looking at him, as if he too 
were guilty. 

As a sign that he was innocent, he laid the 
green branch on the shrine, and passed on, not 
without a feeling of fear, however, as he looked 
back, and saw the men still watching him. 

What was this coming toward him? Was it a 
man? It had a hundred humps: no, it must be 
a spirit! It came nearer and nearer. Joseph did 
not turn from his path, however, but came boldly 
up to it, and said, “ Good-evening ! ” The man 
with the hundred humps — it was the hatter, with 
the newly-ironed hats, which he had hung about 
him — tried, with both persuasion and force, to 
take the boy with him; but the latter escaped, 
and cried aloud, as he ran into the woods, “ Father, 
father ! ” He comforted himself by saying, “ He 
will soon come, he will hear me ; ” and, as the 
night came on, he still called, “ Father, father ! ” 
until his cheeks glowed so that the snow melted, 
as it touched them. 

He said his evening prayer three times, and 


A CHILD SEEKING HIS FATHER. 


149 


also, “ Dear God, keep my father safe ! ” The 
last he repeated with peculiar fervor ; and then he 
hurried on once more. He thought he heard a 
chattering and sighing far below him in the valley ; 
but, when he listened, it became silent again. 
Where was the path now ? There was no longer 
one to be seen. Crying, the child ran from one 
tree to another, “ Father ! mother ! father ! dear 
God ! help me ! ” So he called, and God heard 
him. Three angels in white dresses, with golden 
crowns on their heads, came withTights, and sang 
very sweetly, — 

“ Awake, awake ! 

And come to me . 

This midnight hour 
Is calling thee ! ” 

They came nearer ; and now they were close 
to Joseph, who went directly to them, and said, 
“Dear angels, take me with you, and carry me to 
my father and mother ! ” 

“ Oh ! a ghost ! the Christ-child ! ” the three 
angels cried, and ran away with their torches very 
quickly ; for they had wings, and could go as fast 
as they pleased. 

Joseph would folloAV them, but he stumbled and 
fell ; and, when he was on his feet again, they had 
disappeared, and he found himself once more alone. 
In an instant, he saw a light flash in the distance; 
and he started in the direction of it. He had lost 


150 


JOSEPH IN THE SNOW. 


his cap, but he did not notice it : he ran with all 
his might, and cried, u Stop, stop ! I am only 
Joseph ! ” But the angels would not stop, and 
were to be seen no more. Their footprints, how- 
ever, were on the snow ; and the boy followed 
them, till, at last, on a little elevation — thank 
heaven ! — there was a light, many lights. There 
it was bright as day. The pleasant knowledge that 
somebody lived there came to the child, and gave 
him new strength, so that he ran with redoubled 
energy toward the light, and came directly to the 
forest-mill. The three angels were going up the 
steps, singing, — 

“ Three kings, with voices sweet and clear, 

Are singing this song to each listening ear, — 

‘ Awake, awake ! 

And come to me : 

This midnight hour 
Is calling thee ! ’ ” 

Joseph went up behind them, hardly daring to 
breathe, much less to speak ; for he thought, if he 
made any sound, the angels would fly immediately 
away. He went with them into a room where 
they finished their song, while the people within 
listened to it, and, after it was ended, gave them 
something to eat and drink, and also Christmas- 
gifts ; and the angels ate and drank and expressed 
their thanks. And now it became clear to the 
child that these were no angels, but boys dressed 


A CHILD SEEKING HIS FATHER. 


151 


as such, who were playing the parts of the three 
kings ; and, when they went away, he remained 
behind, and the inmates of the house then first 
became aware of his presence. 

“ Who are you ? Where did you come from ? 
What do you want?” The three women asked 
him. 

“ Eat something to warm you, you are so wet, 
and without any cap ! ” said the daughter. u Yes : 
eat and drink, and then you can tell us. Come : 
I will take your jacket off and hang it by the 
stove. Don’t sit so near the fire : it isn’t good for 
you.” 

11 He is a beautiful boy ! ” said the miller’s wife, 
while Joseph drank a little of the mulled wine. 

“ The angels led me to a good place. Do they 
have such drink in heaven?” said Joseph. 

A peculiar light came into the eyes of Rfittmann’s 
wife, as she heard these words and this voice. She 
pushed aside the bottle that stood in front of her; 
and, bending over the table, she looked at the 
child, as a fox looks out of the forest. 

“ Where do you live ? ” asked Toni. 
u In Waldhausen.” 
u And who is your father ? ” 

“ He isn’t there.” 

11 What is your mother’s name ? ” 

“ Martina ; and my grandfather’s is Schilder- 
David.” 


152 


JOSEPH IN THE SNOW. 


“ So : I have you at last ! ” cried the wild woman. 
“ This is Adam’s son ! ” She sprang quickly up, 
and seized the child as with a vulture’s claw. 

“ Yes : my father’s name is Adam. Do you 
know him ? ” 

“ Come with me, I want to put you to bed ! ” 
she cried. 

“ 1 won’t go with you,” said Joseph. “ You 
are going to cook me, like the witches. Let me 
alone, or I’ll bite you ! ” 

“ 1 will bite you ! I will cook you ! ” screamed 
the woman, laughing. “ Oh ! This is a kindness 
from Heaven that has brought the boy into our 
hands. We will keep him, and will not give him 
up ; and then we can force Adam and all to dance 
to our pipe.” 

But now Toni stepped between them, and 
said, u I will not give the child up to you.” Then, 
turning to him, she said, “ Don’t be afraid, don’t 
be afraid at all ! Come and sit in my lap — so ! 
I will take off your shoes, and put mine on you; 
then you will be warmer. Now tell me : did your 
mother know that you were going away? And 
why did you go alone, this dark night ? ” 

11 1 wauted to find my father. They call him 
names in the village, because he is as strong as a 
horse ; and my grandmother, they say, is a dragon : 
and I wanted to tell them.” 

u Stop ! I will be a dragon to you 1 ” cried 


A CHILD SEEKING HIS FATHER. 


153 


Röttmann’s wife, wrestling with Toni for the boy. 
He resisted with all his might ; and, just as the 
two women were struggling thus, both grand- 
fathers stepped in. 

“ Here is my grandfather ! ” shouted the child, 
running to Schilder-David. 

“ Is this our lost grandson ? ” asked Speidel- 
Röttmann. “ Come here, my boy. Here is an- 
other grandfather. He is a fine child ! It would 
have been a shame ! ” 

11 And I say, 1 No.’ and three times, 1 no/ and 
seven times, ‘ no ! * and my tongue shall be pulled 
from my mouth and thrown to the dogs, before I 
will say, 1 Yes ! 1 ” screamed his wife. 

“You are right. Say, 1 No!’ but it is of no 
use. Is it not a miracle that a child has been lost, 
and found in such a way ? Without, the whole 
village is running hither and thither in the woods 
to find the boy ; and he is one we ought to be 
proud of ; for it is an honor to have a child given 
us whom all men love so much, and put their lives 
in danger to save. Our Lord has wrought a 
miracle ; and now, would that he might work an- 
other in you, wife ! Be good, and yield. It is no 
sin to yield. Are you contented, Toni ? ” 

“ If my consent is enough, his father shall never 
be taken away from him.” 

“ And I say, 1 No/ and 1 no ! ’ And with my 
latest breath I will say, 1 No ! 1 and I will see if 


154 


JOSEPH IN THE SNOW. 


any one can cry down my * No ! ’ ” Schilder-David, 
during this conversation, had remained silent. He 
had held Joseph in his arms, stroking the boy’s 
head and face, as if to be sure he had the child 
once more ; and now he stole out of the house. 
He wanted to take Joseph home alone, but, when 
he had gone down the steps, he found that his 
knees would no longer support him, and he was 
obliged to sit down : here he could hear the clamor 
within, and suddenly a window, he knew, was 
opened, and a thick smoke came out as if the lights 
on the Christmas-tree were blown out. 

As he sat thus, somebody came from the forest. 
It was Haspele. He shouted when he saw Joseph, 
who was shivering so that his grandfather could 
hardly hold him. 

11 Go back quickly, and say that he is found, that 
the men may not look for him longer,” said David, 
his teeth chattering. 

Haspele hastened back, crying aloud, “ He is 
found, he is found ! ” until he could no longer 
utter a word. 

A woman’s figure now came to David, and said, 
“ Give me the child ! ” 

“ No : I will not give him to you ! What do 
you want with him ? ” 

“ I will carry him to my room, and put him to 
bed. Come with him.” 

“ Ah ! you are Toni? Your mother was a good 
woman.” 


A CHILD SEEKING HIS FATHER. 


155 


“ And I hope I shall be also. Come ! Quick ! ” 
u I cannot come up these steps. I feel now 
what I have gone through to-day.” 

“ Then come to the stable : it is warm there.” 
She led him to it, made a good couch of dry- 
hay, and laid the child on it. David sat with 
his hand on Joseph’s forehead, hardly daring to 
breathe, long after the latter had gone to sleep. 
As soon as Toni saw they were both quiet, she left 
them in the stable. 



CHAPTER XVI. 


THE SLEEPERS AND WATCHERS AT THE FOREST-MILL. 



had been sent 
forward by the par- 
ents, when they saw 
the lights from the 
little elevation. He 
was to ascertain what 
was going on there. 
Martina would not be- 
lieve it possible, when 
Adam said, u It may 
be — who knows — • 
perhaps we shall find 
our Joseph at the for- 
est-mill ; ” and yet, now she would 
hasten down: but Adam persuaded 
her to remain till Haspele should 
return. At last the shoemaker 
came. He ran to the spot where 
they were to wait for him ; but they were not 
there. 11 Is every thing bewitched to-day ? ” said 
he. 

But Adam and Martina were not far away. 

156 


THE WATCHERS AT THE FOREST-MILL. 157 


They had been on the spot when the three angels 
had passed, to whom Adam had called with his 
powerful voice; but the angels seemed to have 
such a terror of the whole Röttmann race, that 
they ran fast. 

“ You will find that our Joseph went to hear the 
singing of the three kings,” Martina said, as her 
hope revived. 

Adam ran after the angels, and caught one by 
the wing; but that alone remained in his grasp. 
He followed them, however ; and they were no 
match, in running, for such a man as Adam Rött- 
mann. He seized one, and, holding him high in 
his arms, asked about Joseph ; then he brought 
him to Martina, who was waiting. But the boy 
was so terrified, that nothing could be found out 
by him. He could tell nothing, not even who 
his comrades were ; and when they asked him if a 
large boy, about seven years old, had met him, he 
said first, “ No,” and then, “ Yes.” He could give 
no information whatever; and, in the midst of the 
questioning, Haspele appeared, crying, “ He is 
there ! He is there ! ” 

“ Who is there ? ” 

“ Joseph 1” Haspele exclaimed. 

“ Where, where, where?” and Martina sprang 
toward him. “ Where is he? For Heaven’s sake, 
tell me ! Is he living or dead ? ” 

“Yonder, in the forest-mill, he sits, drinking 
warm wine.” 


158 


JOSEPH IN THE SNOW. 


“ My Joseph, my Joseph ! ” Martina cried, so 
that the name was echoed in the valley. 

She ran with all her might down the mountain, 
and Adam could hardly keep up with her. She 
hastened up the steps of the forest-mill, and threw 
open the doors, calling, “Joseph, Joseph! Where 
is my Joseph ? ” 

“ To the devil with your Joseph ! ” answered a 
voice which she knew. No fright, no anguish, no 
fear of death, or joy of heaven, had prostrated 
Martina ; but this voice did what nothing else 
could do. With a frightful shriek, she fell lifeless 
to the floor. Adam, who was just behind her, was 
so terrified himself, that he let her fall, without 
supporting her. “ Mother, mother ! ” was all he 
could utter. 

“Do not call her 1 mother ’ ! ” Toni cried. “ Go 
away, Adam ! Let me help Martina ! I will take 
care of her ! Give me some warm wine ! Shake 
the snow from your cloak, on her temples — so ! 
She breathes now ! ” 

“ Ha, ha, ha ! ” laughed Adam’s mother. “ If 
the whole world has turned fool, I have not. And 
if all of you surround me, like May-bugs, I will 
still say 1 No ! ’ ” 

Speidel-Röttmann, instead of answering his wife, 
went to Martina. 

“ Come, Martina, try to sit up. I will help 
you. Here, sit here ! ” 


THE WATCHERS AT THE FOREST-MILL. 159 


“ My Joseph ! Where is my boy ? ” 

u He is asleep in the warm stable. I left him 
sleeping ; but his grandfather was with him, and 
awake. We laid him in some nice hay — but, wait 
a moment ! We will bring him up now, and put 
him on my bed : it is just here, in the next 
room. You go, Adam ! You need not be afraid 
that any thing will happen to Martina. Go ! I am 
with her.” 

u And I,” said Speidel-Röttmann. 

Adam went down the steps to the stable, and 
brought the child back. Schilder- David was 
sleeping so soundly, that Adam did not like to 
wake him. The child slept on in Adam’s arms. 
He once carried his hand to his father’s face, and 
then let it fall again, lifeless. They led Martina 
gently to the chamber, and she bent over Joseph, 
to hear him breathe. 

u Lie down a while on the bed,” said Toni to her. 

She looked strangely at the miller’s daughter, 
till the latter said, “ Be glad that every thing has 
happened as it has. Adam and I have been be- 
trothed, it is true ; but we were driven to it, both 
of us. He is good, and has not spoken a word to 
me, but of you ; and we have been betrothed, and 
have not kissed each other.” 

“ Then I will kiss you,” said Martina, throwing 
her arms about Toni’s neck. 

“I would like to have my cheek there,” said 


160 


JOSEPH IN THE SNOW. 


Haspele to Adam, and stepped toward the two 
women. “ Now, Toni,” he said, “ it would be well 
if you would have me ; will you ? I see already, 
in your eyes, that you will say ‘ No ; 7 but, never- 
theless, I am making your wedding shoes.” 

“ Where is my father ? ” Martina exclaimed. 

" Asleep in the hay.” 

u Great Heavens 1 If he should wake and find 
the child gone, he would go crazy ! ” 

11 Be quiet. I will go to the stable, and stay with 
him till he wakes,” answered Toni ; but Haspele 
kept her back: he wanted something to drink be- 
fore he went back to the Reitersberg, where the 
watch was kept. Toni quickly brought him a glass 
of wine. The betrothal wine was drunk to-day by 
strange guests. 

Once again stillness reigned at the mill. Here 
Joseph was sleeping, and at his bed-side Adam and 
Martina were watching; there in the hay slept 
Schilder-David, with Toni sitting by him ; and 
above, in his chamber, the miller was asleep. Rött- 
mann’s wife tried to rouse him : she needed the 
help of some man. But the miller gave no answer 
to her calls ; and she could only curse the motion- 
less u meal-bag ” that lay so still while his house 
was turned upside down. When she came back to 
the room down stairs, she cried aloud, “ What is 
this? Is the world coming to an end to-day?” 
For she heard the report of guns upon the moun- 


THE WATCHERS AT THE FOREST-MILL. 161 


tain, in the valley, on the rocks. It waked little 
Joseph, who called “ Father ! ” 

“ I am here,” Adam answered. 

The firing was continued, accompanied by the 
blowing of a horn, the ringing of bells, the crack- 
ing of whips, and the barking of dogs. 

“ You have called the devil, and he is coming. 
Do you hear? He is coming. Yield, while there 
is yet time/’ pleaded Speidel-Röttmann. 

u Let the devil come. I am willing. I would 
like to speak a word with him,” answered his wife. 
“ You are all good for nothing. You cringe and 
submit. A firm woman never gives up, — never! 
She would rather die.” 

The wild army came nearer and nearer, and at 
length stopped before the mill. They did not come 
in, however ; for they heard in the stable a woman’s 
cry of distress, and the wild lamentation and groan- 
ing of a man. David had waked, and had not 
found the child ; and now he was searching in the 
hay, and calling and groaning. The assurances of 
Toni did not calm him ; for he threatened to strangle 
her unless she gave him the boy. Edward hastened 
to the stable ; and Toni sprang towards him, cry- 
ing, “ Help, help ! ” In the light of the lantern, 
David looked frightfully wild, throwing the hay 
about, with straws hanging from his hair, about his 
face. 

u David, all is well,” said the young farmer, with 
11 


162 


JOSEPH IN THE SNOW. 


his well-toned voice. The old man sank back in 
the hay. 

“ Who is the stranger ? ” Toni asked of Haspele. 

11 The priest’s brother-in-law.” 

11 Sir — sir,” — Toni began. u Tell David that his 
little grandson is in my room, and that Adam and 
Martina are with him. Do you tell him ; for he will 
not believe me, he will not listen to me. For 
Heaven’s sake, help me ! for you are the brother 
of our priest’s good wife, and must be a good man, 
I saw that this morning. Stay and help us.” 

Schilder-David, who, at these words, had sat up 
in the hay, now reached his hand to Toni. 11 You 
are right,” he said. “ Forgive me, and help me to 
rise.” She on one side, and Edward on the other, 
helped him ; and he said, 11 You are both very 
good.” Edward supported the old man with his 
left arm, and extended his right hand to Toni : he 
did not know why he did it. And she gave him 
her hand ; she did not know why she did it : but 
they held each other’s hand fast. 

“ I can go alone, now,” David said ; and they 
brushed the straw from his clothes, and accompa- 
nied him to the steps. 

The meeting between Martina and her father 
was interrupted by a loud laugh in the next room, 
whither they all hastened. It was Haspele, who 
was playing the clown in order to gain the consent 
of Röttmann’s wife, which he thought might be 
most easily won in this way. 


THE WATCHERS AT THE FOREST-MILL. 163 


When Joseph, holding his grandfather’s hand, 
came into the room, Toni said, “ You mustn’t hear 
any thing of this ; ” and she- led him back to the 
chamber. 11 This is the priest’s brother-in-law,” 
she said to Rottmann’s wife, introducing Edward 
as she went out. 

He spoke earnestly to the woman ; but she gave 
him no answer, would utter no sound : she simply 
glared at him under her thick eyebrows. 

“ It . is almost time to go to church,” somebody 
cried ; and, forthwith, the whole band of men left 
the room. When they had assembled in front of 
the house, a voice cried in the room, u Long live 
Speidel-Röttmann’s wife ! she has given her con- 
sent.” It was Haspele who had said it ; and he 
now came exultingly down the steps. Every one 
cheered again and again, the horn was blown, the 
bells rung; and nobody heard a voice that called 
from the window. 

With singing and horn-blowing, the party went 
through the forest towards the village. Toni was 
with Martina ; but, at the place where the road 
begins, she stopped, and said, “ I must go back. I 
would like to go to church with you, and stay with 
you ; but — I do not know what it is — a certain ter- 
ror has seized me, as I think that my father has 
not been waked by all the noise. I am not a good 
daughter to have neglected him. Good-night, 
Joseph,” said she, giving him her hand. 11 Good- 
night, all.” 


164 


JOSEPH IN THE SNOW. 


As she passed Edward, he said, 11 Good-night,” 
softly, and she answered as softly, “ Good-night,” 
but they did not take each other’s hand again. 

Haspele uttered a loud cheer for her as she went 
back, and all the others joined with him. Adam 
carried Joseph in his arms : he had put the new 
clothes and boots on the boy. Finally he yielded to 
the grandfather, and let the child walk with David. 

Just before they reached the village, Haspele 
cried, with the little strength that remained to 
him, — 

“ Halt, halt ! ” 

The wolf was lying here in the field, where 
Adam had thrown it. He carried his son to the 
dead beast, and said, “ See, I killed him with my 
stick ! ” But no entreaty nor chiding could induce 
Joseph to touch the wolf : he was afraid of it. u It 
is well that you have come into your father’s 
hands,” said Adam. “ If this had lasted longer, 
you would never have become a Röttmann ! ” Lead- 
ing the boy by Iiis right hand, and dragging the 
wolf by the left, he came, with the others, to Schil- 
der-David’s house. 



CHAPTER XVII. 


MUCH IN A SMALL HOUSE. 

NE thing I forgot to tell you : 
the miller ” — Lois was say- 
ing, when she was suddenly 
interrupted by a shout in front 
of the house. 

“ He is found ! Joseph is 
here ! ” 

The women ran out, and 
asked, “ Are all safe ? ” 

“ All safe, — all ! ” was the reply. 

Lois remained immovable in her chair. She only 
pressed her feet more firmly on the cricket, which 
began to tremble strangely : then she took a pinch 
of snuff to quiet herself, and regarded the jacket 
with that significant look that says, “ I shall not 
take you in my hands again.” 

“Joseph is there ! ” cried Haspele, who was the 
first to come in. 

“ And my jacket is done,” answered Lois, in the 
modest assurance that she had kept Joseph alive 
by her unceasing sewing. As the foolish Haspele 

165 



166 


JOSEPH IN THE SNOW. 


took no notice of this, however, she asked, “ Where 
was he found ? ” 

“ In the forest-mill.” 

“ I need not have asked,” protested Lois, looking 
about her with a proud complacency. “ I knew 
where he was ; I described the way he went. At 
the very moment that the cry came, X had this word 
on my lips, 1 miller.’ The women will all testify 
to this.” 

To Lois, nothing seemed so important as the fact 
that she had been so wise, and had seen what was 
taking place where she was not present. As soon as 
the others came into the room, even while Martina 
was pressing her hands, unconsciously crushing 
thus a pinch of snuff, she repeated, “ I knew it ; I 
said he was in the forest-mill. Just as Haspele 
came in, I was pronouncing the name of the miller. 
And now I prophesy to you, Martina, that you 
will have your Adam.” 

“It is so, it is so! He is coming!” cried Mar- 
tina. 

Lois cast her eyes humbly upon the floor. She 
did not wish it to appear that she could prophesy, 
only when she saw. She nodded to all who came 
in, as if to say, “ I knew that you would all come. 
I saw every thing beforehand, and was sure that 
Adam held Joseph in his arms. I saw the wolf, 
too, although I thought it was a snake ; but one 
poisonous animal is as bad as another. It has 


MUCH IN A SMALL HOUSE. 


167 


all come to pass as I expected.” She was not 
surprised at any thing. “ Nothing is hidden from 
me,” her manner plainly said ; and she took her 
snuff as quietl} r and comfortably as usual. 

“ I have three fathers,” little Joseph said. u Lois, 
here are my three fathers ! ” 

“ You must go to sleep,” David said. “ Martina, 
carry Joseph to bed!” u Thank God, we are at 
home once more ! ” he screamed into the ear of his 
wife. She nodded pleasantly, and took some straws 
from her husband’s hair. 11 Have you been cutting 
hay? ” she asked. All the others laughed, and she 
laughed with them. Looking about, she could see 
in their faces what she could not hear. She ex- 
tended her hand to Speidel-Röttmann, and said , u Sit 
down, sit down ! ” 

Adam took her hand, and cried aloud in her ear, 
“ Bid me welcome, mother ! ” 

The deaf woman started back as if she had re- 
ceived a blow. “ I can hear. I am not as deaf as 
that,” she said, sinking upon a chair, and looking 
timidly at the large men and their great dogs. 

David’s little house was not built for a Röttinann. 
Father and son, both nearly touched the ceiling 
when they stood upright. Little Joseph sat a 
while on Speidel-Röttmann’s knee. David was 
jealous, and almost cross with the boy for becoming 
so easily acquainted with another. 

“ Give me your great wolf-dog?” asked Joseph 
of Röttinann, who answered, — 


168 


JOSEPH IN THE SNOW. 


11 It is yours.” 

11 You are mine,” said Joseph to the dog. But 
it was necessary to leave the animal with Speidel- 
Böttmann, for he would not go with Joseph. 

“ Somebody take Joseph to bed,” David com- 
manded again. The grandmother saw by the lips 
of her husband what he said, and she took the boy 
and went with him to the little attic-room. The 
door had hardly closed upon them when Lois as- 
tonished everybody, by stepping forward, and say- 
ing with peculiar emphasis, “ And now, Martina, 
dress yourself for your wedding ! Do you men — 
if you are men — have Martina and Adam mar- 
ried this very night ! You can, if you will, and 
do not look back ! You can do a Röttmann deed 
to-night, and distinguish yourselves. The wedge 
can split a hard block, and the horse can draw a 
heavy load. Why do you look at me so ? Go to 
the priest’s, and I tell you you can do it. I tell 
you so, and I know what I say. Come, Martina ! 
I will dress you. I have promised you I would. 
You shall veil your face no more! You have 
walked in sorrow and shame long enough ! Come ! ” 

She drew Martina into the next room, while all 
watched her in amazement ; but no one spoke. 
Soon Martina came back in her holiday dress. 
Adam went to her, and showed her something 
which no one else could see, fastened with a pe- 
culiar band to his purse. Then he turned and said, 


MUCH IN A SMALL HOUSE. 


169 


11 Father, and father-in-law, it is best so. Come 
with us to the priest. He must marry us to-day.” 

“ It cannot be.” 

“ We will try.” 

“ There is a main point,” Schilder-David an- 
swered. u If a man has his bans called, he must 
know the catechism, — at least, the ten command- 
ments. Can you say them, Adam ? You are silent. 
Here is Joseph’s catechism. Go into the next room, 
and learn them quickly.” 

“I will help you,” said Martina, going with him. 

But this proved a hard task. Large drops stood 
on Adam’s brow ; but, in spite of his efforts, he 
could not remember the ten commandments, par- 
ticularly the order in which they came. He failed 
again and again ; but, at the same time, it was evi- 
dent that he was much moved, as he tried in this 
hour to impress these eternal laws upon his 
heart. 

■ l Does Joseph know them?” he asked Martina. 

u Yes : word for word.” 

Lois now came to Adam’s assistance. She en- 
tered the room, saying, “ Don’t stop for this now. 
It is different with you from what it is with most 
men. The priest will not ask for them ; and you 
can promise him that you will learn them.” 

“ Let it be so,” Adam said gladly, and closed the 
book. A heavier load was lifted from his shoulders 
then than had been at the time he carried the two 
wheels. 


170 


JOSEPH IN THE SNOW. 


He went back to the little parlor with Martina,, 
and the two fathers prepared to leave the house 
with them. Adam attempted to explain to his 
mother-in-law what was to take place; but she 
drew back from him, and held her hands over her 
ears. When David spoke to her, she nodded, and 
said, “ Must I stay at home to take care of Joseph? 
I will do it, because you have all done more than I 
have to-day. I have staid here ; but I would like 
to see my Martina married.” 

“ Lois will be good enough to stay with you.” 

“ No : 1 am not good enough. I have promised 
to be at Martina’s wedding ; and I cannot stay if I 
would.” 

Fortunately, the helper-in-need, Haspele, came 
in at this moment ; and although he had arrayed 
himself in fine style, and took great pride in this, 
and although he rejoiced beyond measure that the 
wedding was to take place, and naturally wished 
to stand among the first there, he was at last per- 
suaded to remain with Joseph; for Martina said, 
“ Cousin, you have been kind to the child and to 
me all your life : do this one kindness more, and 
stay with him now.” 

“ Yes, yes : I will do it. Say no more,” he said, 
overcoming his disappointment ; and he went up 
to the attic-room, and sat by Joseph’s bedside. 
The two fathers, the mother, the bride, and the 
bridegroom, went to the parsonage. A few steps 


MUCH IN A SMALL HOUSE. 


171 


behind, Lois went alone. She looked around at all 
the houses, where lights were shining, although no- 
body suspected what this night would bring forth. 
Lois heard music, wedding-music, in the air. No 
one else heard it; but she knew it, and always 
heard more than other persons. 

When the wedding-party arrived at the priest’s 
house, Lois remained in the kitchen with the maid. 
She soon sent the girl, however, to the parlor, to 
open the window which overlooked the kitchen. 



«■* 


CHAPTER XVIII. 


FOR THE CHILD’S SAKE. 



HE darkness grew into light ; 
the light was changed to dark- 
ness ; to-day had become yes- 
terday. The priest needed all 
his quiet self-composure to 
keep himself from a feverish 
anxiety and restlessness. But 
as he never permitted the 
alarm-bell in the village to be 
rung, save in the greatest need, so he guarded 
his inmost being from tumult. He looked out of 
the window a long while, and listened to the 
ticking of the clock on the church-steeple, to which 
his own heart beat in time. He had learned the 
difficult art of keeping himself calm in the midst 
of all the suffering and distress which his heart 
could experience ; and of subduing every emotion, 
even that noblest one of sympathy. 

While all who had remained in the village set 
themselves to work, or sought the society of others, 


FOR THE CHILD’S SAKE. 


173 


in order to forget their anxiety, or to keep them- 
selves awake, he sat alone in his room, motionless 
and thoughtful; and yet in his soul he was greatly 
moved. The villagers, who knew of this custom 
of their priest, asserted that he composed a sermon 
at such times : but his wife had told her father, and 
no one else in the world, that, in these moments, 
the priest had the most wonderful thoughts, so pure 
and spiritual, that words were too harsh for them ; 
and he was satisfied to gain them for himself, and 
had neither wish nor need to write them. It had 
been thus, when, in the neighboring village of 
Wengern, they were seeking the child who was 
frozen to death ; and the words which are now on 
the child’s grave-stone he had spoken, as if in a 
dream ; and she had had great trouble to persuade 
him to let her write them, and send them to his 
colleague in Wengern. Sometimes, in these quiet 
moments, he would softly hum one of the melodies 
of his favorite master, or would repeat a poem, a 
deep thought of another soul, adding thoughts of 
his own to it. When he had thus communed with 
himself, — his wife called this his “ highest,” he 
called it his “ deepest” existence, — he would go 
out into the world of men, transfigured and sancti- 
fied as it seemed, and speak with such earnestness, 
with such a fulness of power and depth of feeling, 
that every one was touched. 

Thus he sat this evening, quiet, living in him- 


174 


JOSEPH IN THE SNOW. 


self. The clock on the church-tower, that ushers 
in day or night, joy or sorrow, with the same voice, 
slowly struck one hour after another, announcing 
again and again that one more period of time had 
passed, and had become a part of eternity. 

“We have found him!” was suddenly called in 
the street; and a horn was blown. The priest 
stepped to the window, and welcomed back his 
brother-in-law. 

Once more in the house, Edward hastily related 
how Joseph had been found in the forest-mill, with 
Adam’s betrothed. He did not dwell long upon 
the cruel nature of Adam’s mother, but hastened 
to speak, with enthusiasm, of the whole village 
that had shown itself so generous to-day. “ These 
men have nothing,” he said, “ but their lives, their 
sound bodies, with which to fight their way 
through the world; and yet, with a determination 
and readiness that never faltered, they risked their 
all to save a lost child. It has been proved, dear 
brother, that your heart lives in all these men: 
you w'ere at home, and still you were with us. I 
am sure it must be hard, almost impossible, for you 
to leave them.” 

As the priest did not reply, his wife asked, 
“Has the miller’s Toni given up Adam? Thank 
Heaven ! She has a good, true heart, that will 
carry her well through life. Why did you not 
bring her with you to the village ? You should 


FOR THE CHILD’S SAKE. 


175 


have brought her to us, Edward. She needs some 
protection against her father, her stepmother, and 
Röttmann’s wicked wife.” 

Edward did not answer; but he breathed hard. 
The priest said, “ Do not be troubled about Toni ; 
she is strong enough ; she is of a good stock : and 
we can save no one from the consequences of his 
deeds, whether good or bad. Who has strength to 
do any act has also strength to bear the effects of 
it ; and he must bear them.” 

Edward looked more composed, but his cheeks 
were glowing; and, when his sister laid her hand 
on them, she said, “ You have a fever. Go to bed 
quickly. Go, and I will bring you some tea.” 

Edward had no wish to follow this advice, 
although he felt that every thing was swimming 
before his eyes : he had experienced more that 
day than he could tell. Just then, there came a 
knock. “ Come in,” the woman cried ; but, as 
those without did not do so, she opened the door 
herself, and in stepped Speidel-Röttmann, Schilder- 
David and his wife, and, behind them, Adam and 
Martina. 

“ Sir,” Schilder-David began, “ God has helped 
us wonderfully ; now, will you help us more, that 
every thing may be settled ? ” 

“What shall I do?” 

“ Speak ! ” David drew back, and motioned to 
Speidel-Röttmann. 


176 


JOSEPH IN THE SNOW. 


“I wish to say,” the latter began, stroking 
again and again his bald head with his large hand, 
as if both making a sign of reverence, and draw- 
ing off an invisible hat, 11 1 have nothing against it. 
The priest may marry my Adam and Martina this 
very night.” 

“ Oh, that is so good ! ” exclaimed the priest’s 
wife, as Adam came forward, holding Martina by 
the hand, and said, u Yes, sir, we beg you to do 
so.” 

“ We beg you,” repeated Martina softly. 

u Peace, peace ! ” said the priest. “ Do you two 
young people come with me to another room.” 

He went first, and the two followed him. 

“ Sit down,” he said ; and, when they were 
both seated, he continued, “ Adam, you think 
because you are the richest person in the neigh- 
borhood, because you can hold up your money- 
bags, and cry, 1 What does it cost ? ’ that every one 
must submit to your pleasure. Because you are 
proud of your strength, because you are called 
1 The Horse/ because you can kill a wolf, you 
think there is no command, no eternal law, which 
cannot be set aside.” 

The priest stopped abruptly ; and Adam began, 
“ Sir, no one in the world knows me, — my father 
does not, my mother does not, — only Martina 
knows me : you, sir, know me partly, but not 
entirely. It is true, as you say, that there has 


FOR THE CHILD’S SAKE. 


177 


been a wild nature in me that has been willing to 
sacrifice every thing to its will. It is true that I 
have not yet conquered this wild nature ; but, sir, 
from this moment it is down ; and you and my 
Martina — Lay any punishment upon me ; I will 
bear it ; I have deserved it. Cut off my fingers, 
so that I shall be helpless as a little child : I will 
not murmur.” 

His emotion prevented Adam from continuing. 

The priest resumed, “It is a law that persons 
shall be called in church, three successive Sundays, 
before they are married.” 

“ I have not then yearned for my child long 
enough? Tell me what I must do, sir, and I will 
do it.” 

“Oh, dear sir!” Martina entreated, “have we 
not been punished enough? Have we not suffered 
long enough ? ” 

“No. You have conducted yourself well during 
these hard years; but your sin was great. It 
may not be that those who break one law shall set 
aside all others.” 

“ If there is no other way, in God’s name let it 
be so ! ” said Adam. Martina’s tears would not let 
her speak. The priest suffered them to sit quietly 
a few moments, and then said, “ Come back to the 
other room.” 

“ Are you ready ? ” asked the priest’s wife, as 
they came in. 


12 


178 


JOSEPH IN THE SNOW. 


Adam and Martina shook their heads. Then 
Speidel-Röttmann stepped forward, and asked, “ Is 
it on account of the bans ? ” 

“ Yes, yes,” Adam replied. 

“ If there is nothing more,” said Speidel-Rött- 
mann, “ I will pay the fine, sir, no matter how 
great it is.” 

“ Ah, yes ! if you come forward with gold, you 
think you can arrange every thing as you please. 
But, Mr. Röttmann, there is something which your 
ten horses cannot move. One thing more, — has 
your wife given her consent ? ” 

“ Haspele said so,” Edward rejoined. “ He must 
come.” 

Adam hastened away, and soon brought Haspele, 
who came, trembling; and when the priest asked 
him, upon his honor, if Adam’s mother had given 
her consent, he said, biting his lips till they bled, 
“ No, she has not.” 

“Well, then,” said the priest, “I will take it 
upon my conscience to marry Adam and Martina, 
without her consent. But I have still something 
to say to you : neither your strength, Adam, nor 
your humility, — I believe it is honest, and I hope 
it will last, — nor your boast to pay the fine, Mr. 
Röttmann ; but ” — 

“ For little Joseph’s sake,” his wife could not help 
exclaiming, — “for little Joseph’s sake, you will 
do it. He is a good child. How would it be if he 


FOR THE CHILD’S SAKE. 


179 


should hear the name of his parents called in 
church ! How much would he have to endure 
with his school-fellows ! And who knows what 
bitterness might rankle in his heart, and what fruit 
it might bring forth some day ! ” 

“ It is true,” said the priest. “ The child is now 
sleeping, and knows nothing of all the trouble and 
sin that are in the world. He ran into the face of 
death to find a father who was so weak, in spite 
of his strength, and a grandfather, who, until now, 
has thought that every thing could be bought 
with gold. For little Joseph’s sake, I will marry 
you this very night.” 

Martina threw herself on her knees before the 
priest, and kissed his hand. Adam seemed on the 
point of doing the same ; but he hesitated. He had 
never been accustomed to kneel ; so he laid his 
hand on Martina’s head, as if to show that she had 
knelt for him as well as herself. 

There was no sound in the room till the priest 
spoke again. “I will see you at the church,” he 
said, and went to his own room. Soon the par- 
sonage was quiet as usual ; but, before the wed- 
ding-party had gone, it was told from house to 
house that Adam and Martina would be married 
that night. Lois had said so. 



CHAPTER XIX. 


N the night the bells 
were ringing. Through 
the open church -door a bright 
light shone out npon the snow- 
covered graves. In the church, the whole parish 
had assembled, each person having a torch or 
candle. The organ was sounding, and all were 


A VOICE AT MID- 
NIGHT. 


singing. 

The music ended, the priest stood up in the pul- 
pit, and said, u What you do to one of the least of 
his children, you do to our Father who is in 
heaven. These words, spoken in a far-distant 
country, have been proved to-day, here, in our 
woods ; here, where scarcely ever before has the 
foot of man followed the tracks of the wild beasts ; 

180 


A VOICE AT MIDNIGHT. 


181 


here as everywhere. 1 ” Then he told his people 
that a man could do nothing better for himself than 
to do something for another. “ And never/’ he 
exclaimed, “ never is the human face more beautiful 
than at the moment when one is doing a good deed. 
A glory sheds itself around it, and frees it from its 
hard look of pain and anxiety.” He next described 
to them a service at midnight, and continued, “ Of 
your own accord, you have come together, and 
have roused yourselves from sleep: rouse your 
souls also from their sleep. How often does some 
care or distress wake you in the night, and you 
toss from side to side, and can find no rest ! Well 
for you ! if it is only sorrow or care that lurks about 
in the darkness, and will not be overcome. But, 
woe to you ! if it is the remembrance of some wick- 
ed act . that wakes you. Here a child wakes his 
mother : his father is away ; she stands by the 
sick-bed, and longs for the day, and asks , 1 Isn’t it 
morning, yet ? ’ ” 

At these words of the priest, Martina caught 
Adam’s arm as he sat by her in the front seat, and 
said, 11 That is what our child asked last night.” 
And the priest continued, “ ‘ Ob, if it were only 
day ! ’ she murmurs : 1 if the sun would only 
shine in the sky, and it were light everywhere ! ’ 
But even now there are stars shining in the 
heavens.” The preacher ended by saying, “ How 
well it would be if all would once, of their own 


182 


JOSEPH IN THE SNOW. 


free will, shake off sleep, and look at the starlight 
in the night.” He repeated the words of the text 
again, and blessed all, who, to-day, had made a 
good deed the entrance-gate through which they 
had come to the church. 

No sound, not even that of hard breathing or 
coughing, which usually interrupted the midnight- 
service as a protest of disturbed life, had been 
heard. Everybody had held his breath ; and now 
the very walls shook as the singing began again. 

In a few simple words, the priest performed the 
marriage-ceremony; and quietly, amid the contin- 
ued ringing of the bells, the villagers separated. 
Some boys were ready with guns to salute the 
wedding-party as it returned home ; but they were 
prevented by those coming from the church ; for 
every heart was so moved it could bear no tumult : 
the deep thoughts the priest had awakened must 
not be disturbed. When, at one o’clock, the moon 
arose, and drove the snow-storm before it, it looked 
down upon a peacefully-sleeping village, where all 
hearts were satisfied, and felt themselves blessed. 




IT IS MORNING. 

HERE was a glad wak- 
ing the next morn- 
ing. Every eye shone 
bright, and every one 
called to his neighbor, 
“ Good - morning ! it’s 
very fine weather ! ” 
while really, the finest 
weather was in their 

souls. The sun seemed 

to shine with an unwonted brilliancy, 
and the snow-decked mountains and trees sparkled 
in the morning-light. But the best of all was some- 
thing that was not as changeable as the weather, 
— a child had been saved ; parents and grand- 
parents were made happy; and a wedding-table 
had been spread, for which nothing had been baked, 
and on which no glasses had clinked. And how 
well and truthfully the priest had spoken ! but it 

183 


CHAPTER XX. 


184 


JOSEPH IN THE SNOW. 


was a pity, a great pity, that he must go away : 
they would keep him there always. 

In the attic-chamber of David’s house, Adam and 
Martina were standing by Joseph, who was still 
fast asleep, although a bright sunbeam, so bright 
that it was melting the ice on the little window, 
was shining on his breast. His face wore a look 
of defiance ; his head was bent backward ; his lips 
were pouted, and slightly open ; and his little 
clinched hand lay near his glowing cheeks. 

“ I’ll wake him : it’s time,” said Martina. 

“ Do me the favor to let him sleep. It’s so with 
me when I have done any hard work ; I can sleep 
three days at a time. How pretty a child looks 
asleep ! I never saw one before,” Adam said ; and 
Martina looked in surprise at him. 

The Iittlo room was not high enough for Adam. 
He sat down upon Martina’s trunk, and asked her, 
in a tone so low that it seemed as though it must 
have come from another person, to step out of the 
light that he could see the boy. 

“ I will remain here till he wakes,” he continued. 
And Martina repeated again and again what little 
Joseph had said the night before, — “ Isn’t it morn- 
ing, yet?” At these words, the child turned in 
bed, and moved as though he were waking; but 
still he slept on. At length his mother bent over 
him, and laughingly called, “ Mother, isn’t it morn- 
ing, yet ? It is morning, Joseph. Wake up : your 
father is here.” 



IT TS MORNING, JOSEPH. Page 184 








IT IS MORNING. 


185 


With a look of surprise and delight, the boy sat 
up in bed ; but he began to cry aloud, when his 
father’s gigantic form rose in the little room. The 
man seemed to the child like some monstrous 
phantom, as a thick cloud passed over the face of 
the sun, and made it dark in the chamber. Martina 
had much trouble in pacifying the boy. His father 
must go out of the room while she dressed him: 
and, as Adam passed out and heard Martina com- 
forting Joseph within, the consciousness of his 
great sin came heavily upon him fora moment; 
then it was gone, and he was Adam Röttraaun, 
who could rule every one. He felt angry with the 
child, who did not love him, did not spring into 
his arms : he would compel the boy to love and 
honor him, — that very day too. When Joseph 
came out of the room, he ran quickly by his father 
down the stairs. 

u He ought to be taught that that is no way to 
treat his father,” said Adam angrily to Martina. 
But she explained to him that Joseph had loved 
him enough to go out to meet him, without fear, in 
the darkness and snow; but that the boy was 
naturally shy to strangers, and did not know his 
father yet. Adam ought to win his heart by 
patience and kindness, and not try to force the 
boy’s love. 

“ You are right, quite right,” said Adam; and 
went down stairs so heavily, that the whole house 


186 


JOSEPH IN THE SNOW. 


shook. He found Joseph standing by Schilder- 
David ; and he asked the boy, “ What would you 
like to have me give you to-day? tell me/’ 

The child did not answer, but looked up timidly 
at his father from beneath his contracted brows. 
He left his grandfather’s side, but would not go to 
Adam. He looked wonderingly at the nail on the 
wall over the stove where some writing was hang- 
ing in a frame. Long before day, David had 
again placed there Martina’s confirmation-certifi- 
cate ; and now a sunbeam fell upon these words : 
“ Hold that fast which thou hast, that no man take 
thy crown.” — Rev. iii. 11. 

“ There is one thing I nearly forgot,” said David. 
“ The priest was right when he said there were 
laws that could not be broken ; and I have made 
one that must be kept. Come here, Joseph : come 
to me!” The boy noticed that his grandfather 
spoke sternly ; but he obeyed : and David said, 
“Have you your new clothes on? Well, I must 
give you something besides. You know you must 
have your punishment for running away : now I 
will give it to you.” 

He went to the looking-glass, and drew a switch 
from behind it, while Joseph began to cry. Adam 
and Martina both begged David to omit the punish- 
ment this time* But he said, “I must do it once 
more; Joseph disobeyed me, and I must punish 
him : after this, however, whatever he does will be 


IT IS MORNING. 


187 


your affair, Adam. When you want to run away 
again, Joseph, you will think of this.” Then ho 
gave the boy the number of blows which he had 
assigned as a penalty, and afterwards handed the 
switch to Adam, saying, “ There ! you have it now. 
From this time, it is for you to keep him in check : 
I have done my part.” “ Now, if they make much 
of him in the village,” he whispered to Martina, u he 
will think of this ; and that will be good for him.” 
But Joseph cried loud a long time, and would not 
let his mother comfort him. 

In another house, there was also loud weeping 
on this bright morning, and that the first house of 
the village. In the parsonage, the maid sat in the 
kitchen crying bitterly. The beautiful fat goose 
which she was to roast to-day, which had been 
killed just in time to make a dinner for their hon- 
ored guest, that fine creature that had been so 
well frozen before the window, had been stolen in 
the confusion of last night. 

“ Whoever tastes of what has been stolen from 
the priest will die ! And how beautifully he spoke 
to them, and thanked them for what they did ! and 
now they have done this to him ! He ought to 
speak of it in his sermon to-day ; and then who- 
ever coughs first will be the one who stole it. I 
will go through the village, and search every- 
where. I will have my goose again, whether it 
was a man or a fox, a wolf, a dog, a marten, a 


188 


JOSEPH IN THE SNOW. 


raven, — whatever it was that stole it. T will find 
him out, and the wicked persons who are cooking 
it. We have nothing to eat for dinner .’ 7 So the 
maid mourned in the kitchen till the priest finally 
came to her, and asked, “ What is the matter ? ” 
She quickly told him, and showed him the empty 
hook by the window, on which she had hung the 
goose. 11 The hook is there ; but the goose is 
gone,” she sobbed : and then she took hold of 
it, as if to try if it were strong enough to hang the 
thief thereon. Brother Edward also came, and he 
must do the girl the favor to look at the empty 
hook. Turning to his brother-in-law, the priest 
said, “ It is often so. The most savory morsel 
often falls to the ground, just as we are raising it 
to our lips.” 

“ And yet you laugh,” his wife exclaimed. 
“Yes: you men do not know how hard it is for 
any one in the country to prepare a good meal, or 
how we rejoice when every thing is ready. I 
thought we had one for to-day ; for yesterday my 
mother sent me some chestnuts.” 

“ I am not laughing : on the contrary, I am very 
sorry ” — 

“Bat you are most sorry that any one has been 
bad enough to steal. You care nothing for dain- 
ties,” Edward said. 

“ Not at all. I am so material, that I am always 
ready to eat a good piece of crisp, roast goose. 


IT IS MORNING. 


189 


And, in regard to the thief, if somebody else’s 
goose had been stolen, the theft would have been 
the same ; and yet I should have fretted less than 
I do now, when my goose is taken by the neck.” 

“ We have its neck still,” exclaimed the maid. 
The others laughed; and just then the post-boy 
was heard coming up the steps. He brought the 
newspaper, which the priest quickly took; and, 
glancing at the announcements that most interested 
him, he read that the place in Odenwald, for which 
he had applied, had been given to another, — a 
much younger priest, but one of the new-fashioned, 
stiff-necked sort. 

“ There is another empty hook,” said the priest, 
handing the paper to his wife, and pointing to the 
announcement. With the newspaper, a letter had 
come from her uncle, the president of the consis- 
tory, which explained that the place had been con- 
ferred upon another, in order that our priest might 
go to the capital. 

“ I decline : I will stay here,” the priest said 
shortly. 

The maid, who was sent to the inn to buy some 
meat to take the place of the stolen goose, had two 
important pieces of news to communicate, which 
were not in harmony, and which she confused in 
the strangest manner. The goose had been stolen, 
and the priest would stay in the village. 

The Christmas-bells were ringing in the bright 


190 


JOSEPH IN THE SNOW. 


morning, with gentle vibrations. These peals were 
not misnamed when they were called “ cradle- 
songs.” When the priest went to the church, the 
villagers were standing in two rows, extending 
from the parsonage to the church ; and, as he 
passed by them, they all greeted him, as a token 
of their gratitude and joy that he would remain 
with them. 

While the organ was playing in church, a veiled 
figure crept up to the kitchen of the parsonage, 
and unexpectedly laid a fat goose on the window- 
seat. Was it the stolen goose, or another? Was 
it the thief who had returned it, or some kind heart 
that brought another in its place ? It was never 
known. The maid declared that she had seen an 
eye twinkle ; but she did not recognize the face, 
nor did she wish to recognize it. She was so lull 
of joy, that she ran to the vestry of the church to 
tell the priest that he need not preach about the 
theft ; but, when she came there, she did not dare to 
go in, so she went home again, saying, 11 He is wise, 
and will not preach about a goose.” In which she 
was perfectly right. 

Little Joseph had gone to church with his par- 
ents. He looked in wonder at all that was going 
on, but he said nothing : he only held fast to his 
father’s hand. At the church-door, his parents let 
him go with his schoolmates, while they them- 
selves separated, Adam sitting with the men, and 


IT IS MORNING. 


191 


Martina with the women. They were together, 
however, for they had come to the same church, 
and their voices united in the same h} r mn. The 
singing was not as good as usual to-day; for the 
best singer was wanting, whose deep voice had 
often helped the schoolmaster. Haspele was so 
hoarse, that he could not speak a loud word. 

When Joseph had joined his comrades, some of 
them asked him if he knew what his name was. 

“Joseph Röttmann, — what it always was,” he 
answered. 

“ No : 1 Joseph in the Snow/ you are called now.” 
And lie keeps the name to this day. 

At noon, the health of the priest was drunk 
again and again at the inn, and also the health of 
“Joseph in the Snow;” and every man had to 
relate his experience of the past night. It was 
far more wonderful that no one had been hurt than 
that Joseph had found his way to the forest-mill. 

In his house, Schilder-David, in his Sunday 
clothes, sat before his large Bible ; and, following 
the words with his fingers, he read on from the 
place where he had stopped the night before. He 
was living his accustomed life, and reading the 
book through again ; but now the words seemed 
wonderfully full of meaning to him. 

In the afternoon, a messenger came to the village 
and said there was some one dead at the forest- 
mill. 


192 


JOSEPH IN THE SNOW. 


11 Röttmann’s wife ! ” every one cried. 

“ No : the miller. He died last evening ; but no 
one knew it till early this morning : he killed him- 
self drinking with Speidel-Röttmann. It’s frightful 
to think how Röttmann’s wife cursed him last night 
when he did not answer her. She cursed a dead 
man ! ” 

Every one shuddered : and truly the miller’s 
death was much regretted. Now, far less was 
said of Joseph’s escape, than of the miller’s de- 
cease. 

Nobody was more terrified at this report than 
Lois. It was now proved that she could do more 
than other persons : she could wish a person dead ; 
she had wished the miller to be poisoned by the 
spices and wine that were bought in the village. 
A tremor of delight, and, at the same time, of fear, 
passed through her whole frame as she thought of 
her wonderful power. 

She did not dare to go out of the house. She 
thought the entire village would know what she 
had done. “ I did not mean it,” she said to her- 
self; “ but I must be more careful what I do in fu- 
ture. I will wish nothing but good to the whole 
world, even to Speidel-Röttmann’s wife.” Finally 
she ventured to go to Martina, and say to her 
secretly, u Pray, take care that the women don’t tell 
what I wished the miller yesterday. People are 
so superstitious ! They would at last believe that 


IT IS MORNING. 


193 


I can do more than others. But, if I can, I must 
not have the name of doing it.” She was only 
half satisfied when Martina assured her that 
nobody thought of such a thing, and that the 
world was not so stupid as to believe it. She 
thought, u You are stupid yourself. But I am glad 
I alone know what there is in the world.” She 
was frightened at every thought she ever had, or 
ever might have, about a person : it was terrible 
to have the power of doing what she pleased to 
any one. 

When the women of the village came to see her, 
she repeatedly said, u I wish well to the whole 
world. Nobody wishes better than I. I wish noth- 
ing but good to everybody, everybody : I make no 
exceptions.” 

None understood her ; but they all said, u Oh, 
yes ! you were always good.” 

u Listen to what I say,” she cried, with sparkling 
eyes. “ I say only these words : The parsonage and 
the miller’s Toni. Remember what I have said. I 
say nothing more.” 

Soon after the news of the miller’s death came, 
the priest and his wife, under the guidance of Ed- 
ward, went to the mill ; and it was well they did 
so, for Toni was quite overcome by her sorrow. 
She had suffered very much since yesterday ; and 
now she blamed herself, that, in her care for others, 
she had forgotten her father. She welcomed the 


13 


194 


JOSEPH IN THE SNOW. 


priest’s wife as a ministering angel, and became 
calm only when the good woman promised to stay 
with her. 

Edward offered to assist her in any way he could. 
She looked at him without speaking, and clung to 
the priest’s wife. 

The miller’s wife, who had so soon become a 
widow, was crying and moaning in a most frightful 
manner. When the priest spoke to her, she hardly 
listened. She gazed at Toni as if she would poison 
the girl with her look, if possible. The victim was 
now free ; and the tormentor must go as a beggar 
from the house. 

People might contradict it as they would, Lois 
did know something ; for, on new Year’s Day, Toni 
went to the parsonage, and remained there during 
her year of mourning. By degrees, she regained 
her cheerfulness, and was as pretty as before, but 
rather more delicate. 

In the summer the forest-mill was rebuilt. Ed- 
ward came frequently on a visit to his sister, and 
never without going to the mill to see what was 
doing there, and to give some directions. 

Lois often went to sew at the parsonage ; and 
she had much to tell of the priest’s wife and Toni, 
— how beautifully they lived together, and how the 
girl let her friend teach her in every thing. But 
Lois did not care to say much more ; only at Adam 


IT IS MORNING. 


195 


Rottmann’s house, which was now painted green, 
did she open her heart to his young wife. No- 
where was she more at home than there ; and she 
often said there was no pleasanter sight than that 
of the large, strong Adam walking about with his 
little daughter in his arms: she never could have 
believed that he would be so gentle and so mild. 
Martina thought smilingly of the time he learned 
to put his arm around her neck under the broad 
beech. Speidel-Röttmann’s wife had long been 
dead. She would not confess it, although it had 
troubled her that she had cursed the dead miller so 
frightfully : before the world, she was as inflexi- 
ble as ever. She sent for a lawyer, who was to 
draw up a paper for the consistory, declaring the 
marriage of Adam and Martina null and void. She 
did not live to see the trial, however : she died 
before the snow was entirely melted, through which 
little Joseph had gone to meet his father. 

Now, when the priest stands in his pulpit, he sees 
before him, in the front seat, two good men who 
have become firm friends, — Adam Röttmann and 
Edward, who has married Toni. 

“ Joseph in the Snow ” stays with his grand- 
father, in the village, during the winter, in order to 
be near his school. He is a strong, bright boy. 

Haspele says u that a child that has been through 
such a remarkable experience, and has brought 


196 


JOSEPH IN THE SNOW. 


about such remarkable events, must make a re- 
markable man.” But Lois always interposes, “ Do 
not prophesy. You take a heavy responsibility 
upon you.” She knows what Joseph will make; 
but she tells no one. 


Ücrßukr Jubcmlc 



♦ 


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Any of these books are sent free on receipt of the advertised price. 


HORACE B. FULLER, 

Successor to Walker, Fuller, & Co., 


245, Washington Street, Boston, 










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000223122 4B 


